A Sackful of Holiday Horsefeathers
by Derdriu
Summary: It's Christmas Vacation during Hermione's 5th year. Remus visits Minerva, Draco falls for Hermione, Snape has a strange dream, and Trelawney has a vision. RemusMinerva, DracoHermione. Ch 15 is up!
1. Midnight Madness, and Morning Mayhem

A Sackful of Holiday Horsefeathers  
  
with Minerva McGonagall/Remus Lupin and Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy  
  
It was six o'clock in the evening, and the train would be leaving in fifteen minutes to take the Hogwarts students back home during the Christmas holidays. Some of them would be celebrating Solstice and Chanukah, I imagine, but that is beside the point. The fact is, everyone was rushing hither and thither and packing the last of their bags. Hermione Granger was in the Gryffindor Common Room with some other students, like Neville Longbottom. Neville was in the middle of rushing out the passage door when he noticed that his Rememberall was glowing bright red. He had forgotten something. And he had a feeling that it was something important.  
  
"What's the matter, Neville?" asked Hermione.  
  
"Oh, I just forgot something," said Neville. After a pause he said, "I remember what it is now! I forgot my present for Grandmother. I bought it in Hogsmeade. Oh, dear, it's too late now."  
  
"It's not too late," said Hermione. They had ten minutes before the train would depart.  
  
"Yes, it is," moaned Neville. "I left it in the Potions dungeon."  
  
"Oh, dear," Hermione exclaimed. "I'll go get it for you. You go downstairs; I'll meet you in the front hall."  
  
"Would you? Oh, thanks, Hermione. I'm so glad you're here--" Neville broke off as she raced out the door. "Wow, she can really run, can't she?" he wondered out loud as she scampered down the hallway.  
  
Hermione reached the dark dungeons of the castle in no time at all. Now, would the door to Snape's classroom be unlocked? Hermione gave the knob a twist and sighed with relief. She was so happy to be of help to someone.  
  
She entered the pitch-black room and raised her wand, uttering "Lumos." Immediately, the light obeyed her command, and she strode forward confidently.  
  
Hermione found what she was looking for within seconds. Upon the floor near Neville's usual seat lay a large package tied with string. She picked it up and emerged from the classroom.  
  
She quickly retraced her steps and, rounding a corner, gave a sudden cry as she almost ran head long into Draco Malfoy.  
  
"Watch where you're going, Granger," he muttered.  
  
"Shouldn't you be getting on a train?" she spat, brushing past him. As their arms met, she felt a shock rush through her like electricity.  
  
"I plan on it," he said, glancing back at her with those steely blue eyes of his.  
  
Hermione continued on her way to the front hall, completely ignoring his sour attitude.  
  
In the front hall, Professor McGonagall was urging Neville to hurry up and take a seat in one of the carriages.  
  
"But I'm waiting for Hermione," said Neville. "She's gone to fetch something for me. She won't be long, I swear."  
  
McGonagall looked around the hall for signs of her star pupil. "And here she comes now. That's some luck you have there, Neville." Hermione delivered his grandmother's present and looked out at the procession of horseless carriages. She loved riding in those things.  
  
"Looking forward to vacation, Hermione?" questioned McGonagall.  
  
"Oh, yes. Very," replied the girl. No Potions classes with Snape, and no Draco Malfoy, either. What could be better?  
  
Hermione suddenly thought of Draco downstairs and panicked. She said to McGonagall, "Has Malfoy already left?"  
  
"No, I haven't seen him," answered the teacher. "I don't think he's left yet."  
  
Hermione was very worried that she'd have to spend the whole vacation with that jerk, so she went back down to the Slytherin Common Room to make sure he didn't miss the train.  
  
She met Draco halfway down the corridor. He was pulling his luggage behind him at a leisurely pace.  
  
"What are you doing here again?" he asked suspiciously.  
  
"Making sure you leave," said Hermione haughtily. "There are precisely six minutes left before the train departs."  
  
"Don't get your knickers in a knot. They're not going to leave without the son of Lucius Malfoy," said Draco.  
  
Hermione cringed at hearing him refer to his family so arrogantly. "It's just an accident that you were born into aristocracy," she remarked. "You needn't parade your name around as if it were something to be proud of."  
  
"What are you so envious of, Granger? I thought you were glad to be a Mudblood," said Draco casually. "Look on the bright side--at least you know what it's like on the other side of the wall. And when I say 'other side of the wall,' I mean poor people."  
  
"Oh!" scoffed Hermione. "I envy you nothing, you pompous windbag! At least I've learned how to work hard to get where I am. Not like you, who has everything handed down to him on a silver platter!"  
  
"Actually, it's a gold platter," said Draco.  
  
Hermione scoffed again. "I bet you're not even a real blonde."  
  
"Oh, yes I am." Draco turned on her. This last remark had evidently succeeded where the others had failed to move him. "It runs in the family. I am a natural blonde, Miss Granger."  
  
Her eyes narrowed. "You better hurry up; I don't want to be stuck with you for two whole weeks."  
  
"Don't worry, Miss Granger," he said again. "I wouldn't wish your company upon my worst enemy."  
  
"I return the compliment."  
  
Draco sighed wistfully. "Two whole weeks without Granger. How refreshing. But don't fret, my dear. You may not have me, but at least you won't be completely alone. Ron and Harry are staying, aren't they?"  
  
"Mm-hm."  
  
"I've heard they're quite smooth with the ladies," Draco confided.  
  
Hermione laughed. "Nothing could be farther from the truth, Draco. Just get to the punch line."  
  
Draco paused. He would have told her that his informant was Moaning Myrtle, that pathetic ghost of an adolescent girl, but now his joke was ruined.  
  
"What punch line?" he said. "I was being serious."  
  
"Oh, sure. Like those two could ever pick up a girl, much less recognize flirting when they see it."  
  
"I do believe you're making fun of your two best friends," said Draco. "You do have a dark side! Commendable! Come to think of it, I do see an evil glint in your eyes, after all." He smirked at her.  
  
Hermione laughed but still remained on her guard. One could never let it down around Draco Malfoy. "I don't know what you're talking about," she denied, secretly fancying that she had a dark side.  
  
"I think you do," insisted the Slytherin. "But I'll let it go at that." Together, they walked up the stairwell and into the front hall.  
  
The front doors were fastened shut, and through the windows, they caught a glimpse of the last carriage as it sailed across the lake. "What the hell!" Draco swore. His unruffled exterior rapidly melted away. "Where is Professor Dumbledore!" he demanded.  
  
"Maybe they've gone...to the Teachers' Lounge?" suggested Hermione. Her desperate plan had failed, but it was not entirely her fault. She had warned him. It wasn't her fault if people didn't heed her advice.  
  
Draco glared at her. "I don't know how this happened, Granger, but somehow, you're responsible for it!"  
  
She rolled her eyes. "I don't know why I even bother helping people." She put her hands on her hips and began to walk away.  
  
"And don't even pretend that you wanted to help me," declared Draco. "All you want is to be at the top of the class! And you don't care who you step on to get there."  
  
Hermione ignored him.  
  
"That's right; ignore me. You know it's true," Draco called after her. "Just as long as you're the smartest one in our grade, you can be nice to everyone else. But the minute you think someone is better than you, you have to hate them for it."  
  
"What? That's not at all how I am," yelled Hermione, turning around to face him. "Why must you argue with me like this?" Whether she knew it or not, Hermione herself was glued to this impassioned feeling of combat just as much as Draco was.  
  
"Because I'm sick of you acting like a hypocrite!" yelled Draco. "Let's get the facts straight: I'm the richest one here, and you're the smartest. You think your god-given brains make you superior to everyone else, but I have news for you. Being naturally intelligent is no different than being born into money."  
  
"Excuse me?" Hermione retorted, advancing toward him. "Are you telling me I act superior? As if you don't? You're the hypocrite, not me."  
  
"Oh, fine. We're both hypocrites. Everyone's a hypocrite! Are you happy now?" said Draco.  
  
Hermione said, "No. Actually, I don't know why we're having this conversation."  
  
"Well, neither do I. Maybe if I hadn't missed that stupid train, I wouldn't be standing here--" 'two feet away from your face...'  
  
Suddenly, he didn't care about going home anymore.  
  
"Hermione, you're so..." began Draco.  
  
"Like a Mudblood?" suggested Hermione.  
  
"No, you're just so predictable," said the boy.  
  
Then he did something that not even Madame Trelawney could predict.  
  
Draco took Hermione's face firmly in his hands and kissed her lips. She would have pulled away had the kiss not been extremely pleasant and even surreal. Hermione was so surprised that Draco Malfoy was a good kisser, she didn't even wonder why the hell he was doing it in the first place. And it had been such a long time since a boy had even danced with her... Females are apt to do strange things after being deprived of physical contact for too long.  
  
Hermione broke away from him after a minute, breaking into rapid speech. "What are you, crazy? We're in the middle of the front foyer, for crying out loud! Anybody could see us! They could walk in here at any moment!"  
  
Draco was looking incredibly sexy and rebellious. "That's what makes it so dangerous," he said.  
  
Hermione was flattered, but terribly confused. "Why don't we go someplace more...deserted?" she suggested.  
  
"Why? Are you ashamed to be seen with me?" he teased.  
  
"No." She giggled nervously. "But I hate explaining awkward situations."  
  
"Me, too," he said. "How does the Slytherin Common Room sound?"  
  
She got butterflies in her stomach at the thought of being in Draco's territory. "Oh, that sounds exciting."  
  
"Really?" He smiled and gently drew her waist toward him.  
  
Hermione nodded vaguely. She was off in a different world altogether- -far away from Hogwarts. She wondered at this unexpected and sudden change of dynamics. Was it safe to continue with this frenzied attraction? For once in her life, she found it just a tad boring to consider all the consequences of her actions. And so, Hermione did away with reason temporarily, for Reason has no place in Nature, and Nature is the place from where her instincts undoubtedly sprung.  
  
Draco had considered her sweetness endearing, but now he admired Hermione's recklessness as well. He gave her another peck on the lips, and they left for his common room without more ado.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
At around 7:30 that same night, Minerva McGonagall was calling an end to a long and stressful day. She slipped into a pretty satin nightgown and took a few minutes to brush out her long, wavy blonde hair. For professional reasons, she usually wore it in a bun during the day.  
  
Professor McGonagall was about to get into bed when there was a knock at her door.  
  
Fearing another Hogwarts' emergency, she immediately answered the door. She said loudly, "Who is it?"  
  
"It's me, Remus," came the reply.  
  
McGonagall was astounded. "I don't think it's very safe to let a werewolf in my bedroom, do you?" she inquired playfully.  
  
"Speaking as a former Defense Against the Dark Arts Teacher," said Remus Lupin, "I'd have to advise against it."  
  
Minerva McGonagall unlocked her door, cracking it open an inch.  
  
Lupin continued, "But speaking as Remus, I'd have to say..." He pushed the door open and gazed into McGonagall's soft blue eyes. "Good evening, Professor."  
  
She smiled and, grabbing hold of his collar, pulled Remus inside. Then she swiftly shut the door.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Meanwhile, in the Gryffindor common room, Harry and Ron were playing with Crookshanks, Hermione's pet cat.  
  
"Go on, go get it, Crookshanks!" Ron cheered. He was holding out a cat toy, a plastic wand with a red feather attached to the end of it. The cat was having fun chasing it, and sometimes it pounced on Ron's feet instead of the feather, just for variety.  
  
Playing with Crookshanks helped to alleviate their boredom.  
  
"Where can she be?" grumbled Harry. Somehow, it wasn't the same without Hermione.  
  
Ron was puzzled by her absence, too. "She hasn't gone home. Maybe she's visiting the house elves. Or enjoying a bit of 'leisure reading' in the library," Ron ended with a smirk.  
  
"Hmmph." Harry reached out his hand and tickled Crookshank's belly. The cat walked up to Harry and rubbed his knee, purring contentedly.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Hermione waltzed into Gryffindor quarters at about 8:00 pm bearing a muffin and a cup of hot chocolate.  
  
"Where've you been?" asked Ron.  
  
"I nipped into the kitchen to get a snack," said Hermione. "I'm utterly famished."  
  
"After you stuffed your face at dinner?" Ron exclaimed. Harry simply leaned back and listened to their conversation.  
  
"I went for a jog tonight. It made me very hungry," said Hermione.  
  
"You went jogging in this weather?" cried Ron.  
  
"I find the fresh air quite stimulating at this time of year," Hermione explained, her tone of voice still pleasant. She ruffled Ron's red hair and walked up the winding staircase to her dormitory. Crookshanks followed her.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
There were a couple of surprises at the Hogwarts breakfast table the following morning.  
  
The first one was Remus Lupin, of course. He had resigned from the school over a year ago, and yet, here he was--spreading jam on his toast as calm as you please. The Headmaster Dumbledore would squeeze in some announcement regarding Lupin shortly.  
  
Then there was the uncanny presence of Draco Malfoy, which came as a shock to everyone but Hermione. She hid her smile behind a linen napkin until the temptation to laugh subsided.  
  
The third surprise was the new tradition of 'Secret Santa,' which we will get to in a moment.  
  
Albus Dumbledore looked around. He was standing at the head of the table. To his left was Minerva McGonagall--the young Professor of Transfigurations. She had attended school here with Mrs. Weasley, Ron's mother. To Dumbledore's right sat Severus Snape, expert Potions maker. The other adults present were: Madame Pomfrey the Nurse, Professor Trelawney from yonder Divination Department, the Charms Professor Flitwick, Remus Lupin, and Rubeus Hagrid the Ranger.  
  
Students staying at Hogwarts during Christmas Vacation were: Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy, Ginny Weasley, Jessup (a 1st year), Sylvia and Chrystal (two 2nd years), Marvin and Elizabeth (two 6th years), and Elaine (a 7th year).  
  
Dumbledore spoke, "Good morning. I hope you've all slept well. The first thing on my agenda is to welcome back a former teacher--Mr. Remus Lupin." He looked at Remus, who acknowledged the inquiring faces around the table with a shy smile. "Our first and second year students haven't had the privilege of studying under Mr. Lupin. He hasn't come here to teach, however, but merely to visit. He will leave as soon as classes resume in January.  
  
"Secondly, we're trying something new this Christmas. I've been studying Muggle traditions in the ways of gift-giving recently, and I'd like to adopt one of their practices. After breakfast, everyone--including myself--will approach this cauldron behind me and wait for a slip of paper to pop out. Please read your paper and keep it tucked away from prying eyes. Whatever you do, don't let anyone else read it.  
  
"This little game of mine is called 'Secret Santa.' Whosever name appears on your paper is the person that you must give a present to." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as he thought of all the mischief this would cause.  
  
"Now, let's enjoy breakfast, shall we?" he said with a flourish.  
  
The assembly cheerfully followed his lead and began the task of filling their stomachs.  
  
First up to the black cauldron was Minerva McGonagall (or 'my Mini Muffin,' as Lupin liked to call her.) She drew the name Trelawney. McGonagall's face instantly registered displeasure, though she kept silent and returned to her seat.  
  
Severus Snape was next in line; he drew Hagrid's name.  
  
Harry drew Ginny's name; Ron got stuck with Snape; Remus drew Minerva's name, and Hermione picked Madame Pomfrey. It was like some sort of poetic justice, really. The number of times Hermione had been in the infirmary definitely warranted recompense for Pomfrey's incredible patience.  
  
Draco read his paper with a mixed expression on his face. It was impossible to tell whose name he had, but it looked as if he got summoned to clean a dirty bathroom--but for a large sum of money. He pocketed the note thoughtfully and returned to his seat.  
  
A delicate tinkle of chimes signaled the end of the meal, and they could now go back to bed if they so wished. Many of them were still in their pajamas. Draco, for instance, was wearing his black bathrobe over a set of mocha-colored silk pajamas. It went very well with his pale blonde hair and fair skin.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Minerva, may I have a word with you?" requested Dumbledore as the students were filing out of the Grand Hall.  
  
"Right now?" said Minerva.  
  
"Sometime this morning," said Dumbledore, "I would like to take a walk with you. Maybe in the greenhouse, if there's nobody there to overhear us."  
  
McGonagall consented, and they went for a little stroll. Professor Sprout's potted palms were still lush and verdant, and exotic birds were nestled in the canopy above their heads.  
  
"This is becoming a dangerous situation," commented Dumbledore.  
  
"What? You mean..." McGonagall began, hoping that the look in her eyes would finish that sentence.  
  
"Yes. I mean dangerous for Remus Lupin, with Draco here," said Dumbledore. "He's a meddlesome boy, and the last thing I want is for him to go complaining to his father about Lupin. Because, of course, Lucius Malfoy will complain about me and charge me with harboring a vicious werewolf. And I know that Lupin is taking every precaution against that unfortunate transformation--"  
  
"The full moon was just last week!" cried McGonagall. "There won't be another one for at least three whole weeks! We're all perfectly safe!"  
  
"Yes, yes, I know. And if Lucius causes any trouble, I'll definitely mention it," Dumbledore reassured her. "Pardon me for saying so, but you and Remus make a very cute couple."  
  
McGonagall blushed. "Oh, really? Yes, he does have the cutest smile, doesn't he? And the way he looks at me, he's just, aaaawwww... oh, I'm sorry, Albus. I'm being so mushy."  
  
Dumbledore laughed. "No apology needed. You've worked so hard; I can't begrudge you a little romance now. And Remus, poor Remus. He deserves to have some love after all those years of being an outcast."  
  
They were passing by the flower gardens just then, and McGonagall stopped to admire them. "I love those red roses," she said.  
  
"Maybe somebody will give you one for Christmas," said Dumbledore.  
  
Hoping that he was right, McGonagall said nothing. She was thinking about her first husband, who had died fifteen years ago at the hands of Lord Voldemort. Because she loved her first husband with a love that could not be put into words, she refused to look at any other man ever since that dreadful day. Clothed in black, Minerva McGonagall went mourning for fifteen long years and took up the manner of a woman twice her age. Yet, somehow, Remus Lupin was able to break down the formidable barrier that McGonagall had built around herself. He looked at her, and softness came pouring back into her soul. McGonagall folded up her black robes and stored them in the back of her wardrobe, her strict demeanor melted into kindness once more, and the years rolled off her frame like water. She felt like the young woman who had fallen in love for the first time, and when she looked in the mirror, she was happy at what she beheld. Her delightful countenance--smiling and rosy and full of life. It was all because of Remus.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Hermione had agreed to meet Harry and Ron outside for a broomstick game after breakfast. The weather was clear and sunny--perfect for flying. Harry got out a Quaffle and flew straight up in the air. They were just taking turns with chasing and goaltending, since there weren't enough players to have a proper match.  
  
Draco appeared on the field while they were playing. He was holding his Nimbus 2001.  
  
"Oh look, Harry!" shouted Hermione excitedly. "It's Draco! I think he wants to join us."  
  
"His name is Malfoy, not Draco," stated Ron, "and he's not playing with us! You couldn't possibly think of such a thing."  
  
"You're awfully hard on him," said Hermione. "Did it ever occur to you that he might be friendly once you took the time to actually talk to him? You know, have a civilized conversation?"  
  
Ron thought that she was playing weird mind games with him, so he did the only thing that a self-respecting male could do in that situation, which was to ignore her.  
  
Harry watched in bewilderment as Hermione swooped down to meet Draco on the ground below.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Dumbledore retired to his private chambers. "Boy, did this ever backfire," he muttered to himself as he reclined in his old armchair. He held the small piece of paper closer to his spectacles, but it did not make a difference. The letters still read, 'Draco Malfoy.'  
  
"Why must I give a present to that insufferable boy?" the Headmaster grumbled again. "Draco has been nothing but trouble since he got to this school."  
  
Fawkes the Phoenix cooed in sympathy.  
  
"Draco's going to end up just like his father if Snape doesn't stop favoring him."  
  
'And why do you let Snape keep teaching here?' asked the little voice in Dumbledore's head.  
  
"Because without Hogwarts, Snape would be friendless. I'd be powerless to control him, and his actions would no longer be under my surveillance," Dumbledore said aloud. "He bears the mark of the Dark Lord. He depends on me. He trusts me with all his soul. If I were to fire him, he would surely go mad. And if Severus Snape loses his mind, and with nothing left to keep him on our side, he may rejoin the Death Eaters. I shudder to think of that, my dear Fawkes."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Professor Trelawney arose from the table shortly after Dumbledore and McGonagall departed. The psychic preferred to live apart from the other inhabitants of Hogwarts, for she found the material plane too mundane for her tastes. Trelawney dwelt in a far tower of the castle where she could use her Inner Eye more frequently. She taught classes there and was seldom seen out of it except on special occasions.  
  
When Professor Trelawney spoke of her insights into future, she was always very animated, yet she seemed to be exercising great self-control as well. There was a Medium I recently saw at a Psychic Fair who reminded me of her. Both Trelawney and the Medium were elderly, about sixty-five years old, but their exact age was hard to pinpoint because of that invisible fire burning within their souls--the gift of Second Sight. Anyone possessing this unique sense is sure to act in ways not understood by their fellow man. Perhaps this is why Trelawney preferred to wear her elegant black shawls everyday and traipse around with her forearms covered in bangles.  
  
Before leaving the Grand Hall, Trelawney announced to the remaining staff members, "It was a pleasure dining with you all. One can only hope that this is not the last happy meeting we will have together. I say this because of the omen in my tea leaves. It was quite unfortunate, and I feel I must warn you: terrible things I foresee from this day forth. Little does Dumbledore know how quickly the clouds of darkness gather. Everything is quiet before the storm, and Dumbledore's new game won't be enough to distract us from the deafening clashes to come." Trelawney's voice fell to a soft tremor. She glided out of the hall, her hands still trembling. The teachers gazed at her in silence until she passed out of sight.  
  
"What did she see?" Madame Pomfrey said fearfully.  
  
"Who knows," said Flitwick.  
  
"If you ask me, it sounds as if we're in for a thunderstorm tonight," remarked Snape. He poured another cup of tigersquash tea, oblivious to the leaves in his previous cup.  
  
Hagrid agreed. "Couldn't think of a better explanation meself," he said.  
  
Pomfrey nodded her head. "Definitely thunder showers," the nurse chimed in.  
  
Let it be known that it did thunder and hail that night, just as Madame Trelawney had predicted. The staff took note of this and later put together a dictionary of keywords such as 'clouds of darkness,' 'foggy mysteries of the future,' and 'relentless torrents of Fate.' That is how Sibyll Trelawney came to be the unofficial Hogwarts weather forecaster, though she never knew it.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Draco was fully dressed by this time and wearing his green Quidditch robes over his gray v-neck sweater and black pants. His blonde hair was slicked back, enhancing his bright blue eyes. Every feature of Draco's body had a regal perfection to it. His nose, his eyebrows, his cheekbones, lips, chin and jawline. Down to the tips of his toes, Draco Malfoy was an irresistibly snobbish prince.  
  
The young Malfoy kept his calm as Hermione approached him. He did not smile, but there was something friendly in his expression, nonetheless.  
  
"Good morning," said Draco. By the way he spoke, one could tell he had good breeding. His accent was flawless.  
  
"Good morning," Hermione returned the greeting.  
  
"What are you playing?" asked Draco curiously.  
  
"Oh, nothing really," said Hermione. "We're just tossing a ball around. Trying to get past Harry. He wants to be a goalie today."  
  
"What about the Snitch?"  
  
"We're not using it today. Not enough players," explained Hermione.  
  
"So it's like Muggle Basketball?" said Draco.  
  
"Why, yes. It is. I didn't think of it that way," said Hermione. "How do you know about Basketball?"  
  
"I saw a picture of it once," said Draco.  
  
Harry and Ron were getting impatient just then, and it also happened that Ginny came along as well. Her long red pigtails were streaming behind her as she ran onto the field. "Ron!" she called. "Can I play, too?"  
  
Ron groaned. "You don't know how to play, Ginny. And it's too dangerous. Go back inside."  
  
Ginny, who was only a year younger than her brother Ron, stubbornly stood her ground. "Oh, Ron, you're worse than Percy! You're not even using a Bludger! And I know how to fly--better than you, probably. We learned in our first year, in case you don't remember."  
  
"That may be so, but you can't play without a broom!" shouted Ron.  
  
Harry interrupted him. "Why don't you lay off her, Ron? It's not like we're practicing for the World Cup."  
  
Ginny yelled, "I'm playing one way or another, so like it or lump it."  
  
Draco looked at her with a new idea forming in his brain. "Here you go, Ginny. You can borrow mine." He handed over the Nimbus 2001, and Ginny's eyes lit up with excitement.  
  
"You really mean it, Malfoy? It's not cursed or anything, is it?" she inquired slyly.  
  
Draco laughed. "No, it's not cursed. I'm letting you have a turn because your brother's being a stupid sod. Here, it won't bite."  
  
Up in the air, Ron shuddered in horror. With a grimace he ejaculated, "She can't touch anything that Draco Malfoy's touched, can she? I mean, really, can she? My own flesh and blood, riding on the same broom that came in contact with Malfoy's bum! And not to mention his sweat, and his --- ewww! This is 'orrible, Harry! It's 'orrible!"  
  
"Well, it wouldn't have happened if you just let her play with us," Harry pointed out. "She could've borrowed one from the supply room, like you and Hermione did."  
  
"But did Ginny go to the supply room?" continued Ron. "NO! She settled for Malfoy's! That creep! Where does he get off pretending to be nice to my sister!"  
  
Harry shrugged his shoulders, murmuring, "I don't know." To Ron, a day without a reason to complain about Draco Malfoy was like a day without sunshine. Harry was pleasantly surprised that Malfoy was being nice today, but he was pretty sure there was an ulterior motive. Time would tell what that motive was. 


	2. An Afternoon Romp

We bring you the second installment of  
A Sackful of Holiday Horsefeathers  
Now in Exciting Stereophonic Sound!  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
The teachers were still enjoying their gossip in the Grand Hall. The fire was burning steadily in the hearth, the chairs were comfortable, and there were at least five full bottles of Spumante yet untouched. Nobody was about to go anywhere.  
  
"Ooooh, I wonder where Dumbledore and McGonagall have gone," said Madame Pomfrey, hinting at some conspiratorial element in their meeting.  
  
"Perhaps Master Lupin could answer that for us," said Snape, fixing his powerful eyes upon the former Defense Against the Dark Arts Teacher. Snape had always had a schoolboy grudge against Lupin, disliking Sirius Black and James Potter as well.  
  
Lupin looked up suddenly. "I don't have any idea what they're doing," he said.  
  
"And why, may I inquire further, were you so secretive about arriving here yesterday? Stealing in here in the middle of the night, like some hunted beast?" Snape asked him with an accusing tone.  
  
"I had Dumbledore's permission a long time ago, Severus. I told him in advance that I planned on visiting," said Lupin. He could feel Snape's eyes boring into him.  
  
"Oh, really?" Snape leered at him. "Might this visit have anything to do with your weakness for Professor McGonagall? I noticed the way you were going after her at the end of the year. We all noticed."  
  
Lupin chuckled when Snape mentioned this, for he hadn't known until now just how miserably his attempts at subtlety had failed. He said, "My personal affairs are none of your business, Severus."  
  
Snape was about to say more, but Hagrid interrupted. "There's nuthin' wrong with seein' an old friend. I think I speak for everyone when I say that Lupin and McGonagall are very cute together. We saw how they started gettin' chummy towards the end o' the school year, and we were all for it, weren't we?"  
  
Except for Snape, everyone nodded vigorously. Madame Pomfrey affirmed, "Yes, we were. I remember, we used to talk about you two--" she looked fondly at Lupin "--in the lounge, and we said, 'Oh, those two would make a fine couple.' So you see, there's nothing to be shy about. We knew it all along."  
  
Lupin smiled bashfully; his face was a bright shade of pink.  
  
Pomfrey continued, "And I said it first, didn't I? Even before Sibyll predicted it."  
  
"Sibyll Trelawney even knew about us?" exclaimed Lupin.  
  
Pomfrey giggled. "Well, you could say so. Anyway, Minerva was so sad when you resigned from Hogwarts. There really was no way to console her."  
  
"No way at all," echoed Flitwick. "I offered to perform a Cheering Charm on her, but she refused every time."  
  
"I wish I'd known," said Lupin. His thoughts trailed off to the previous evening, reliving that breathtaking second when McGonagall threw her arms around him, thus breaking their long separation. She reminded him of an animal--some graceful and dignified beast, like a lioness. But that was understandable, seeing as how McGonagall was an Animagus and could transform herself into a cat.  
  
Lupin sighed wistfully, wondering where McGonagall and Dumbledore were. "Say, Poppy," he said to Madame Pomfrey, "where have Dumbledore and McGonagall gone off to?"  
  
Instead of answering his question, Pomfrey giggled. "Aaaawww. Somebody has a girlfriend," she gushed in a sing-songy voice. "He can't be apart from her for one minute, isn't that adorable?"  
  
At this point in the conversation, Remus Lupin opted to let them gossip on their own, and he went out to search for McGonagall.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Lunch was scheduled for one o'clock in the afternoon, and almost everyone arrived on time. The black cauldron was gone, but it was replaced by a charming little harp about two feet high. It was carven out of bone into the shape of a beautiful mermaid, and she was enchanted to sing along with the harp's music. They played on their own, unaided by human hands.  
  
The plates and silverware were already laid out upon the bright red tablecloth. Dumbledore was the first one seated, early as always. He ordered up some eggnog while he waited.  
  
Draco and Hermione entered the room side by side, walking quite freely and naturally. They were even laughing together over something. At the mere sight of this unlikely couple, Albus Dumbledore jumped out of his seat and accidentally knocked his glass over--spilling eggnog all over his new red tablecloth. The exclamation, "What the-" was out of his mouth before he could stop it. Luckily, nobody witnessed Dumbledore losing his composure. He quickly righted the glass, which was now empty, and covered up the stain with several napkins.  
  
Eventually, everybody came into the hall and took a seat. Only Mme Trelawney was absent. She usually took meals in her own quarters, however.  
  
Dumbledore looked around, waiting for the food to appear, and then remembered that the diners were expecting him to make some sort of announcement. 'Not another announcement!' Dumbledore thought. He had-- without fail--greeted his staff and students at each and every meal since he became Headmaster. Frankly, he was tired of it. And his voice was hoarse today. Perhaps he could use International Sign Language. Hmmm... And what would happen if he also did his spells in sign language rather than in Latin? Those ancient Greek wizards didn't speak Latin... Latin didn't even exist back then...  
  
With a start, Dumbledore realized that he had kept his congregation waiting long enough, and he cleared his throat importantly.  
  
"I'm only going to say one thing before we eat, because frankly, I'm sick of making announcements," stated Dumbledore. "This morning, when you read the name on your Secret Santa note, you were obligated by a magical contract to choose an appropriate gift for that special someone--even if he or she is not so special to you. If you purposely give this person a gift that you know will be unappreciated, you know--something they'll really hate, you will have seven weeks of bad luck. And by reverse logic, if you really put some thought in your gift and give them something you know they'll really like, you will have seven weeks of good luck. I do hope this is enough motivation for you people to be nice to each other," said Dumbledore, keeping a watchful eye on Draco Malfoy. The boy was sitting between Hermione and Ginny and was wearing a particularly innocent expression on his face.  
  
Dumbledore clapped his hands, and the food suddenly appeared on their plates. (It was prepared in the cellar beneath the Grand Hall by the Hogwarts house-elves.)  
  
Draco whispered something in Hermione's ear, and she nodded her head. He then withdrew a package from a pocket inside his robes and opened it up. It was filled with delicious-looking chocolates. Draco took one from the end of the box and gave it to Hermione. After a polite thank you, she put the succulent sweet in her mouth and licked her lips. Ron looked as if he would throw up any second.  
  
"Oh, mint creams! My favorite," declared Hermione.  
  
Draco turned to his left and offered one to Ginny. She checked to make sure nothing strange had happened to Hermione, who had already swallowed hers, and then nodded. Draco placed the mint-cream chocolate up to Ginny's lips and raised his eyebrows ever-so-slightly. It is one of those exquisite mannerisms that all men share, whether they have bushy eyebrows or plain, straight or curved, brown or gray. The man simply tilts his head (while giving the lady a puppy-dog look) and raises his eyebrows in that familiar token of cuteness.  
  
Ginny could not resist that look coming from the gorgeous Slytherin, Draco Malfoy. She opened her lips and let him slide the chocolate inside her mouth. She closed her lips on his fingertips as he gently pulled away.  
  
Ron yelled, "You sick, perverted bastard!"  
  
Immediately, everybody stopped whatever they were doing to look at him. The harp played on.  
  
Ron ignored them, directing his ranting at Draco, "What are you doing with my sister? What the hell are you doing? How dare you! With me sitting right across the table!"  
  
Another awkward hush befell the dining room, the strains of "Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring" filling in the gaps between the boys' outbursts.  
  
"Oh, sorry, Ron," said Draco rather unapologetically. "I didn't know she was already taken. But now I see how things are in the Weasley family."  
  
Ron shuddered. "No, Draco. That's only in your family. Which reminds me, you've got plenty of female cousins, right? So why don't you hit on one of them?"  
  
"Whoa, whoa. Let's get something straight, Weasley. I am not hitting on anybody," said Draco.  
  
Professor Snape finally spoke up, "What is all this fuss about, Weasley?"  
  
"Sir, he started it," declared Ron. "He's been feeding my sister chocolates--"  
  
"Chocolates?" snapped the Potions teacher. "How dreadful. We must reprimand him immediately." Now grinning in amusement, Professor Snape assured Draco, "But of course, we won't do that. It's Malfoy's business what he does with his Christmas presents, and I don't want to hear another peep out of you, Weasley. Believe me, you don't want to be scrubbing floors during your vacation."  
  
Ron's face had turned deathly white. He looked again at Ginny, who was very embarrassed that she'd caused so much uproar. She settled her eyes upon the bowl of soup in front of her, too shy to look elsewhere. The meal ended with Ron forcing down his stew in sullen silence, and Harry resolved to go to the school library right after lunch. He had to find a reason for the way Hermione was acting around Draco Malfoy. And Ginny was affected now, as well. Some dark, unnatural magic was afoot, and it was only fitting that Harry and Ron should come to the aid of their friends and loved ones in their darkest hour.  
  
Harry felt rather noble as they made their journey to the library. The thought, 'It's what Hermione would do,' kept running through his head, and it goaded him on. He wouldn't stop looking through the books. He would be like Hermione, and search and search and SEARCH until the Mystery was unraveled, and a Solution was found, and Order was once again restored!  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Severus Snape was searching that day, as well. He was looking for a present for Hagrid among his collection of oddities. Snape's office was dismal and smelled of mold, and it was crammed from ceiling to floor with strange concoctions, shrunken heads, crows' feet and bat wings, and many expensive potions ingredients. There must be something in here that he could give; he surely didn't want to dig into his paycheck for that mindless oaf. Good grief, what was Dumbledore thinking when he set up the rules for this idiotic game? Snape had better things to do with his time than this.  
  
Ah! On the top shelf, he saw an old beaver hat! It was almost the same style as the beaver hat Uric the Oddball once wore to a Wizard's Council Meeting. Old Uric had tried to prove that listening to Fwooper Song was beneficial to the health, but it only served to drive him insane. Actually, it wasn't a beaver hat that he had worn to the meeting; it was a dead badger, as Snape recalled now. Yes; this beaver hat was definitely the sort of thing Hagrid would wear.  
  
Snape dragged a footstool over to the shelf so he could reach the hat. As he put his foot upon the top rung, the ladder started to wobble, and he lost his balance. Severus Snape came crashing to the floor, banging his head on the cement and losing consciousness.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Where do we look first?" Ron said with a sigh as they walked into the library. Already, he felt this task was extremely daunting, and he looked to Harry for help, as he always did, even though Harry was equally unqualified for the fine art of investigation.  
  
Luckily, the Hogwarts' Library had a card catalog. You may remember what a card catalog is, dear reader, if you were alive before the years of computerization. It's a wonderful device that has a card printed up for every book in the library. Harry suggested they look up 'infatuation' and 'impaired judgment' underneath the subject headings.  
  
They found several books that had directions for love spells and potions, a few books with counter spells, but nothing under 'impaired judgment.' Looking under 'judgment,' they found loads of volumes on court trials, divination, and how to discern between witchcraft and dark magic. The last type would be useful to Aurors, or dark wizard catchers.  
  
Ron and Harry took a couple books for love spells and began skimming through them at a nearby table.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Lupin longed to run his fingers through McGonagall's strawberry blonde hair, but not in public. The couple was sitting on the veranda, making idle chitchat as an excuse to gaze into each other's eyes.  
  
"I believe the library is free today," said McGonagall demurely.  
  
"Oh, really?" said Lupin, raising his eyebrows. He loved the way McGonagall was sitting there, resting her elbows on the table and propping up her head lest she fall over by simply looking at him.  
  
McGonagall said, "With the kids on break, it's sure to be empty."  
  
"So there was no need to make a reservation?" said Lupin, admiring the neckline of her bodice as she leaned forward.  
  
McGonagall smiled. "It wasn't necessary. And besides, I feel like being spontaneous."  
  
Lupin checked his watch. "Well, the library closes in about five hours. I hope we have enough time."  
  
McGonagall chuckled. "Five hours! Well, I should only hope! And if they come by to lock up, we can hide in the broom closet."  
  
"Or in the Restricted Section," said Lupin.  
  
"Oh, you naughty boy!" cried McGonagall, giving his arm a mild slap.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Dumbledore opened his office window to let in a furious-looking owl. It flew straight onto Dumbledore's desk, brandishing an envelope in its beak.  
  
"Well, well," murmured Dumbledore. "Who can this be from?" He took the envelope out of the bird's beak, absentmindedly patting him on his fluffy head.  
  
The letter was from Lucius Malfoy.  
  
Dear Professor Dumbledore, I am certain that I dropped off one child by the name of Draco Malfoy at your school earlier this year. Now, unless I am capable of misplacing such a large object as my son, I believe he is still at Hogwarts. Narcissa and I demand an explanation for your failure to send him home properly. Right now, we are supposed to be attending a prominent dog-sled race in Canada. Draco was looking forward to it very much, so--pray tell me--what on Earth has kept him from returning home?  
  
Sincerely, Lucius Malfoy  
  
Dumbledore laid the note on his desk, saying, "I wish I knew." Then patting the owl again, he remarked, "What are they feeding you, steroids? You made that journey in a single night! Those crazy Malfoys."  
  
The Headmaster sat down to pen his own letter.  
  
Dear Lucius Malfoy, Your son Draco is alive and well and shows no signs of going home this winter. Heaven only knows why he is staying here, but he seems very content. I will ask him to send you a letter as soon as possible.  
  
Sincerely, Albus Dumbledore  
  
Dumbledore blew on the ink a bit to dry it, and then he carefully folded it up and stuck it in a new envelope. The owl looked at him eagerly.  
  
"Why don't you rest a while?" said Dumbledore soothingly. "It's not going to kill them to wait a few more hours to hear from their darling Draco."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Sudden attraction to an otherwise unappealing mate," Ron read aloud to Harry. "As depicted in William Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream, in which Titania, the Queen of Fairyland, was bewitched by her husband to fall in love with a man who had the head of an ass."  
  
Harry snorted. "What the hell kind of story is that?"  
  
"Wait! There's more," said Ron. "This man had the head of an ass because he was bewitched by the hobgoblin Robin Goodfellow, and guess what: the man's name was Bottom."  
  
"Like Neville Longbottom! Ha, that is funny," said Harry.  
  
"So, this Queen fell in love with an ass, just like Hermione fell in love with Malfoy," said Ron. "So it must be some sort of love spell."  
  
"But why would Malfoy want Hermione to like him?" said Harry. "He's always hated us."  
  
"I don't know! But just look at them!" shouted Ron. "He obviously likes her now! Maybe someone else has bewitched them both. I don't know."  
  
"Maybe it was Snape!" cried Harry, with a mad gleam in his dark eyes.  
  
"I wouldn't put it past him!" said Ron.  
  
"But why would Snape..."  
  
"To torture us, Harry!" yelled Ron. "Snape has always hated us, and he knows how much we despise Malfoy. He knows how much it would kill us to see Hermione and Malfoy together--ignoring us--pretending that he isn't the Muggle-hating son of a Death Eater he is!"  
  
"Okay, okay. I get the picture," said Harry.  
  
The door to the library opened again, and Lupin and McGonagall slid through the opening. McGonagall started to giggle, and Lupin hushed her.  
  
"Why are you shushing me? There's nobody here," she told him.  
  
"But there might be," said Lupin, grinning boyishly. He wrapped his arms around her waist while she looked about furtively. "Just imagine that we're sneaking out after curfew, and we're trying not to get caught..."  
  
"Oh, like a game," said McGonagall.  
  
"Exactly, my little Mini Muffin," said Lupin, kissing the tip of her nose.  
  
"I like this game," she said.  
  
"I like it, too," he said, bracing her against the wall and kissing her lips.  
  
Harry heard a noise, most likely human voices, coming from the direction of the library door. "Ron, did you hear that?"  
  
Ron nodded. "Snape's spying on us!" he whispered feverishly.  
  
"No, I thought it sounded like Professor McGonagall," insisted Harry. "But it couldn't be; I heard laughing."  
  
"Do you hear anything now?" asked Ron, straining his ears.  
  
"No, it's gone away," said Harry.  
  
Ron stood up and moved very cautiously toward the windows. "I'll sneak up on it, Harry, ever so quiet. You wait here and keep watch."  
  
"Why don't we just ignore it, and hope it doesn't come back?" asked Harry.  
  
"Good question. And one that I don't know the answer to," said Ron. "Oh, wait. Aren't you supposed to be the courageous one?"  
  
"All Gryffindors are supposed to be courageous," said Harry, side- stepping the issue of his own bravery.  
  
"Oh," said Ron. "But suppose that it's your turn today."  
  
"Good grief, Ron. It's only some stupid person looking for a book," exclaimed Harry. "Come with me." He yanked Ron's arm and dragged him across the library.  
  
McGonagall and Lupin heard the boys' footsteps approaching, and they hastily made themselves presentable again. Lupin pulled his hand out from beneath her dress and pulled his shirt back on. McGonagall tidied up her hair.  
  
They had just finished fastening the clasps on their robes when Harry and Ron walked by.  
  
"Oh!" Harry gave a yelp of surprise. Ron accidentally bumped into him.  
  
"Why, hullo Harry. Ronald," said Lupin shortly. "Quite the coincidence running into you two here."  
  
"Er, yes," stammered Harry.  
  
"Well, we must be off," announced Lupin. "I'll see you at dinner time." He and McGonagall scurried out of the library in search of greener pastures.  
  
"What was that all about?" said Ron.  
  
"What do you think it was about?" said Harry.  
  
"I dunno," said Ron, who was obviously not thinking the way a fifteen- year-old boy should be thinking.  
  
"Oh, come on," said Harry. "They were fooling around."  
  
"No!"  
  
"Yes," Harry said. "They were making out."  
  
Ron thought about it. "But--but--but that's disgusting! You're talking about Professor McGonagall! She's not a--she's not a--well, you know, she's Professor McGonagall!"  
  
Harry rolled his eyes. "She's the same age as your mother. And Lupin went to school with my father. They're not exactly old..."  
  
"But they're not young, either!" cried Ron, still in shock.  
  
"That doesn't matter." Harry explained, "They're adults; they're allowed to have a little fun sometimes."  
  
"But not in our library!"  
  
"You're right. It's okay for teachers to make out, but we have to draw the line somewhere." Harry sadly shook his head. He would never be able to think about Lupin the same way again. He had to admit, he had a new respect for the man. But at the same time, Harry had to keep forcing out mental images of Lupin and McGonagall--naked. It was not a pleasant daydream for the young Harry. 


	3. Some Enchanted Evening

**Chapter Three**

~~~~~~~

            Severus Snape was having a dream.  His physical body was alone on the floor, unconscious, cold, and with nobody looking for it.  Dinner came and went, and still nobody gave a thought to him.

            Snape was dreaming of a long stairway.  It swirled up and down, and there was a fat knight on a horse running through the paintings on the walls.  It was a spiral staircase.  He was climbing the steps, and it seemed to take forever, but he didn't get tired.  Then, at the very top, there was a ladder leading up to a room.  He could smell something burning, and it reminded him of a cozy fire.  He had a feeling that he should climb the ladder, and since it was a dream, Snape had no trouble pulling himself up the rungs.

            At the end, he realized that he was in Madame Trelawney's tower room, and she was seated at a round table with a spread of Tarot Cards.  He knew instantly that she was reading for him.  Madame Trelawney then dissipated from the dream, and in her place sat a gray wolf.  He seemed to be smiling at Snape, and was panting and wagging his tail.  A woman with long, shining hair stood behind the wild beast and was stroking his fur.  This woman was a wild thing herself.  She wore nothing at all, and her body was clothed in her long, blonde tresses.

            Snape went along with this, because it was a dream, and nothing is very surprising in dreams.  (Unless you're a boy, and you have a dream in which you're kissing another boy.  But don't worry too much; it was probably just something you ate.)

            The woman bent down and kissed the wolf as if he were a tame pet, cradling his head in her gentle hands.  Snape wanted to be in his place!  He felt like running over there and pushing the beast out of the way, but the wolf let out a sudden growl.  The woman was powerless to control him, and the wolf sprung away from her.  He ran toward Snape and bounded upon him, and held him down with his massive paws.  The wolf was about to sink his terrible fangs into Snape's neck.

            Then the world began to change, and Snape was shocked to discover there were no teeth embedded in his neck.  He wondered where he was, and then his eyesight came back.  He was awake, and he was lying on the floor of his office.

            Much time had passed since he fell, as he could tell by the rumbling of his stomach.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

            Harry, Ron, and Hermione were lounging in the Gryffindor Common Room after supper.

            "Did any of you see Snape tonight?"  asked Harry.

            "No, thank God," replied Ron.  He recalled that the professor hadn't appeared for supper at all.

            "Oh, well," said Harry.  "Hey, Hermione, do you want to play Wizard's Chess with me?"

            Hermione looked up from her book.  "I'm sorry, but I'm doing something with Ginny at eight o'clock."

            "What are you doing?"  asked Harry.

            "Yeah, can we come too?"  Ron piped up.

            "Mm, no," Hermione smiled.  "I don't think that would be a good idea."

            Ron was staring suspiciously at the sack beside her.  He pointed at it, saying, "What's in _there_?  It looks like a suitcase."

            "Really, I don't have time for all these silly questions.  Why don't you two play chess together or something?"  Hermione really wanted to finish reading Chapter 17 before she went out.

            Harry tried to capture her interest.  "Hermione--did I tell you who we saw in the library today?"

            "Who?"

            "Lupin and McGonagall," stated Harry.  "They seemed to be in a pretty big hurry to get out of there when they saw us, too."

            "I suppose Professor McGonagall didn't want you to know her lesson plans for next term," said Hermione.

            "They weren't working on lesson plans..." said Ron.

            "Oh, really.  And what _were_ they working on?"  Hermione gave a yawn.

            "Same thing you're doing with Draco Malfoy, no doubt," Ron muttered bitterly.

            "That's nice," Hermione drawled.  A split-second later, it dawned on her what Ron had said.  "Hey!  What are you implying?"

            "Nothing, nothing at all," Ron said, suddenly acting disinterested to get even with Hermione.

            The girl tried to put on a poker face.  "Why would I have anything to do with him?"  she retorted.  "Really, I don't know _what_ you boys are talking about.  Where _do_ you come up with these ideas?"

            Ron whispered to Harry, "Hopefully not the same place she gets hers from."

            "I heard that!"  Hermione shouted.  "But it is no matter.  A lady must control her temper, and so I shall forgive your rudeness, Ronald Weasley."

            Harry looked at her very strangely.  "Are you sure you're feeling all right, Hermione?"

            "Of course," she said.  "I've never felt better in my whole life."

            "Then why do I get the feeling you're not really going out with Ginny tonight?"  asked Harry.

            "Harry!"  Hermione spouted, her voice trembling with indignation.  "You think I'd lie to you?  We've known each other for five years!  You think I'm going to sneak off with Draco, don't you?"

            "Well, maybe," Harry murmured.  "I mean, I'm sorry I even thought about it.  Of course you wouldn't sneak off with Malfoy, using Ron's little sister as an alibi and everything..."

            "She's not just _Ron's little sister_," Hermione snapped at him.  "She has a name, and it's Ginny Weasley.  And she's only one year younger than we are, so stop patronizing her."

            "Whoa, there, little missy," said Harry.  "I'm sorry already."

            Hermione stuck her chin a little further into the air and returned to her absorbing book.

            Even with this powerful and heated declaration of her intentions, Ron and Harry still doubted whether Ginny was really going anywhere with Hermione that night.  They strongly expected Draco Malfoy himself to knock on the door and ask to see Miss Granger.  Maybe he would be holding a bouquet of flowers.

            This is why the boys both gave a start when Ginny Weasley walked down the spiral staircase that led from her dormitory into the common room.  She was dressed in her school uniform.  There was a satchel swinging from her shoulder, similar to the one that lay by Hermione's side.

            Ginny strolled over to Hermione.  "Are you ready, Mionny?"  she asked.

            Hermione closed the book immediately, even though she was in the middle of reading a sentence.  "Yeah.  Let's get out of here.  I'm afraid I'll pick up whatever they have if I stay here another minute."

            Ginny laughed.  Hermione picked up her bag, and they flew out the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

            Draco knew he had to write back to his parents; Dumbledore had told him before dinner.  Draco surely didn't want to get the Headmaster in trouble by failing to respond in a timely manner, but right now, he had more pressing issues at hand.

            Images of Hermione Granger and Ginny Weasley came floating across his mind.  He would see them soon.  And they would be wet, at that.  He could see them now:  laughing and splashing in the water, wearing nothing but their swimsuits.  Now _there_ was Draco Malfoy's ultimate daydream, soon to become reality.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

            Snape was rubbing his head on the spot where he fell.  It was swollen and felt like an ugly blemish beneath his already greasy, unsightly hair.  But he didn't care what he looked like.  Why should he?  There was nobody to impress.

            The professor was standing at the foot of the ladder that led up to Madame Trelawney's tower room.  It seemed like deja vu, but now he was actually there in the flesh.

            Severus Snape normally did not acknowledge the powers of Madame Trelawney.  He had never even been in the North Tower before.  However, he couldn't help but feel that his dream was a premonition--a message inciting him to visit the Seer Trelawney.  After all, he reminded himself, it _did_ thunder and hail that evening.  Did Sibyll not say the words "deafening clashes" and "clouds of darkness?"

            He didn't have a clue as to what he expected to learn.  He only knew that his dream was too powerful to ignore.  Therefore, he must conquer his newborn fear of ladders and scurry on up there before he changed his mind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

            Draco was letting himself down into the water.  His towel was lying a couple yards away from the pool, and he was wearing yellow swimming trunks.

            The shallow bottom of the pool was smooth as polished marble.  Soft, white Christmas lights were strung up around the perimeter of the ceiling.

            The mermaid in the painting had awoken from her nap.  She was now admiring Draco's well-toned body.  Draco was about to ask her for some privacy, but then he changed his mind.  Who was he to deny a hot mermaid a glimpse of his beautiful self?  Besides, it padded his ego.

            He had an ample supply of chest hair--golden and curly--not too thick, but definitely an ample supply.  Enough for a girl to run her fingers through and feel the hair sifting between each extremity.

            Hermione and Ginny stood outside the door to the prefects' bathroom, which was off-limits to all students who weren't prefects.

            "Is this it?"  asked Ginny.

            "I think so," said Hermione.  "I've never been here before."  She pushed the door open, and in the soft light of the room, they saw a young man gliding through the water:  Draco Malfoy.

            The sound of water lapping against the sides of the pool was strange and musical.  It had a rhythmic quality to it that was magnified as it bounced off the bathroom walls.

            The girls entered the room and set down their rucksacks.  Draco was unaware of their presence as he finished his lap.  He reached the far end of the pool and did an underwater somersault.  Pushing off the side with his feet, he propelled himself in the opposite direction, his body a streamline model of agility as he shot through the water.  He went above to get some air, and the movement hardly disturbed the pool's calm, glass-like surface.

            Ginny removed her sweater.  She was wearing her white blouse yet, and beneath that was her swimsuit.

            "It's really hot in here," said Hermione.

            Ginny merely nodded.  The sight of Draco's naked torso left her speechless.

            Draco looked up finally, coming up from a breaststroke.  "Oh, hi.  Come on in, the water's great."

            The girls smiled nervously and stripped down to their swimsuits.  Then they hopped into the pool.

            "Oh, it's so nice and warm," sighed Hermione.  "It's like our jacuzzi back home."

            "What's a jacuzzi?"  asked Draco.

            "It's like a really big bathtub.  There's jets of water that shoot out, and it feels like a massage," explained Hermione.

            "That must be nice," said Draco.  "It's been so long since I got a massage."

            Ginny looked back and forth between the two of them, grinning.  She could see where this was going.

            "Oh, really?"  said Hermione.

            Draco smiled.  Oh, he was divine!  Why hadn't they noticed this before?  Ginny felt warm inside, as if she drank too much wine.  She would gladly put her hands around Draco's neck; he had such strong neck muscles.

            And Hermione longed to reach out and touch his bare chest.  She wanted to feel the rise and fall of his diaphragm as he breathed.  His warm, moist skin looked so sensitive, so masculine.  His abdomen--so lean and well toned, yet so exposed and naked, with a cute little poking-out bellybutton.

            "I don't know about you, but this past week has been so hectic," said Draco, hoping for a back massage.  "I had three exams and that five-page essay for Professor Binns.  All in one week!"

            Hermione said, "I know what you mean.  I've been studying all week, too.  Not like Harry; he's such a procrastinator.  It's so annoying!  He waited until the last minute to write that essay for Binns, and then he wanted to look at mine!  Yeah, like that was going to happen."

            Draco shook his head sympathetically.

            "But I suppose everyone procrastinates," said Hermione.  "I'm just some weirdo who actually likes learning."

            "No, you're not," said Draco.  "You just don't belong in Gryffindor."

            "What?"

            "If you were in Slytherin, you'd fit right in.  Everyone there is ambitious and hard working."  Draco added as an afterthought, "Except for Crabbe and Goyle."

            "So you're saying I'm ambitious and hard working?"  said Hermione, hardly believing that she was getting compliments from Draco Malfoy.

            "No, I'm saying you're a hopeless Hufflepuff," said the boy.  "Now, getting back to that massage idea..."

            Ginny spoke up.  "Can I go first?"

            Draco said, "Actually, that's not a bad idea, Gin.  Why don't you girls give each other a massage, and I'll just wait here for my turn."

            Pretending to be outraged at this indecent proposal, Ginny splashed him with water.  He splashed her back, and it soon erupted into a big water-fight between the three of them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

            The students were caught in a very compromising situation, to say the least, when Lupin and McGonagall walked in the prefects' bathroom.  (They wanted to use it, too.)

            Lucius Malfoy had always told his son to watch out for 'the shy, quiet girls.'  They were almost invariably the most deviant ones behind closed doors.  Somehow, Draco had ended up kissing both Hermione and Ginny while they were splashing around in the water.  Then the girls decided that a little experimentation couldn't hurt.  As Ginny had put it, "We can't let boys have all the fun."  (That's the problem with Yaoi, in my opinion.)

            So Ginny and Hermione kissed each other, and then they kissed Draco again, and the mermaid continued to watch with glee.  She saw the whole thing play out, right until the end.  Then she witnessed, still with her usual detached amusement, the three rule-breakers get escorted out of her bathroom by Professor McGonagall and Remus Lupin.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

            Hermione, Ginny, and Draco said not a word as the two adults led them up to Dumbledore's office.  They scarcely breathed.

            Lupin knocked upon the Headmaster's door and uttered the password.  The door swung open, and he entered, leaving the children with McGonagall while he went in to explain the situation briefly to Dumbledore.

            A few minutes later, the Headmaster was sitting in his armchair facing the three solemn-eyed youths who sat before him.

            "You may wait outside, Professor McGonagall and Master Lupin.  I would like you to escort the students back to their respective dormitories after I'm through speaking with them."

            "Yes, sir," replied McGonagall.  Lupin nodded, and they left the room.

            Doom hovered low above the children's heads.  Not even a knife could cut through the tension.

            Dumbledore looked very disappointed and a little angry.

            "This is not the first time that my students have acted in such a fashion," said Dumbledore, "but I hope it will be the last.  Your private lives are none of my business.  However, the prefects' bathroom is strictly forbidden to students, even the best and brightest of them, and this rule applies at all times of the year--including vacations.  You must understand why I set this rule.  Being a Prefect is a privilege, and it is only granted to a chosen few.  It is a reward for academic excellence--and integrity.    Are any of you Prefects?"

            The children quietly shook their heads.  Ginny whispered, "No."

            Dumbledore sighed.  "Hermione, I'm very surprised at your conduct.  You are one of the smartest pupils in this school.  I hope your intelligence hasn't given you a false sense of self-worth.  We must all abide by the same rules as everybody else.

            "And Draco.  Draco Malfoy, how on earth would you explain this to your father?"

            This statement might as well have been intended to have two separate meanings, for Lucius Malfoy despised the Weasley family almost as much as he despised Muggles.  Therefore, he would disapprove of his son's behavior for quite a different reason.

            "You're also one of the top students here, Draco.  Severus Snape is not the only professor to notice your talents.  You ought to use them more wisely."  

            Dumbledore fixed his eyes upon Ginny, trying to seem gentler.  His face was alive and alert even when softened.  "Ginny, dear.  You're a sweet girl and a hard worker, and clever, too.  I want you to become a leader, someone who doesn't follow the herd.  Sometimes we have to do what's right and not be swayed by emotions.  It's a very difficult thing to do, but in time, we all learn how to achieve it."

            Albus Dumbledore glanced up at his clock and said, "I'm not going to punish any of you, since it's only your first transgression.  You know, I'd actually like to send you all to the nurse."

            The students appeared mildly surprised.

            "Yes.  Madame Pomfrey should examine you for any strange, er, enchantments.  Just a brief check-up, really.  Like going to the dentist once a year.  I don't want you coming down with anything; they say the flu is going around like crazy."

            The students could hardly believe their luck.  Still, they felt extremely embarrassed.

            "Oh, just one more thing before we leave," said Dumbledore quickly.  "Draco, did you send a letter to your father yet?"

            "No, sir," said the boy.

            "Well, I'm not letting you leave this office until you've written it.  I'll send it by owl myself.  Now, where's that stationery?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

            It took Madame Pomfrey several minutes before she fully woke up.  Heaving a great yawn, she tied her bathrobe and trudged out of her bedroom, which connected to the infirmary by way of an adjoining door.

            "Hello, Poppy," greeted Dumbledore, trying to keep things light.  "I'm sorry to trouble you so late.  I just have a small favor to ask of you.  These three students need to be examined."

            Madame Pomfrey turned her eyes to the children, claiming, "They look to be in fine health to me, Professor Dumbledore.  What do you want me to examine them for?"

            "Oh, uh," the Headmaster stumbled over his thoughts.  He pulled the nurse aside and spoke to her in the sick room so they would not be overheard.

            "They were caught together, under the most unusual circumstances, Poppy," cried Dumbledore.  "You wouldn't believe me unless you saw it yourself, so I won't even bother telling you what McGonagall and Lupin found them doing--"

            "My word!"  exclaimed the nurse.  "You don't say!"

            "Wait, let me finish.  I want them tested for every kind of love spell you can imagine--"

            "That's quite a lot; it would take the whole night, it would."

            "Then just check them for the more common love spells," advised Dumbledore.  "And also, I'd like you to run a thorough, er, psychological examination on each of them to rule out mental illness.  Better to be safe than sorry, you know."

            "I'll do my best, sir," Pomfrey said with a nod.  She and Dumbledore went back into the infirmary, and the children were then subjected to Pomfrey's motherly care and supervision.

…………to be continued


	4. Trelawney's Vision

**Chapter Four**

            "Severus, I've been expecting you," said Professor Trelawney, her voice ringing clearly from the sitting room.

            Snape had ascended the ladder and was now afraid to go back down, so he wandered further into the darkness of Trelawney's lair.

            "Severus," Trelawney called again.  "It is you, isn't it?"

            "Yes," the wizard said gruffly.  He was moving very slowly to avoid bumping into the students' desks.  "I can't see anything, madame.  Where are you?"

            "I'm over here," called Trelawney.  She was seated at a small table gazing into her crystal ball, from which a dim light was emanating.  She tapped the orb with her wand, and it glowed brighter.  It was like a miniature lamp now.

            "Thank you very much," Snape muttered.  He meandered over to her table and sat down on the chair across from her, eyeing its rickety legs with mistrust.  He suddenly felt quite large and overweight.

            Madame Trelawney folded her delicate hands and looked into his face with curiosity.  "It always pleases me to converse with my former students.  I remember you well from your days in Divination, Slytherin though you were.  How is life treating you lately, Severus?"

            Snape squinted.  "But wouldn't you already know that?"

            Trelawney rolled her eyes.  "Just for once, can't I have an ordinary conversation with somebody?  Can't I just ask questions with my voice instead of using my Inner Eye all the time?  I mean, it's a very precious gift and not one to be used for unnecessary purposes."

            "I see," said the wizard.

            "So, if you'll allow me to continue," said the psychic, pushing up her sleeves, "we will start with your dreaming life."

            Snape glanced up sharply, meeting her eyes, and he got goosebumps all over his flesh.  "How did you--?"

            "I had a glimpse of this conversation," explained Trelawney.  "I saw you sitting across from me at this very table discussing a strange dream of yours.  So, let us not hinder Fate, but allow it to unfold along its most natural path.  Tell me of your dream, Severus.  I'm most curious about it."

            "Well, I'm not sure where to begin.  I was in my office, looking for something, and then I slipped and I, uh, fell down.  After that, I must've blacked out," said Snape.  Trelawney tilted her head expectantly.  "I dreamt of you, and then a wolf, and there was a woman with long, blonde hair..."

            "Minerva McGonagall?"  suggested Trelawney.

            Snape winced.  "She was petting the dog, or the wolf, or what have you--"

            "It was a wolf," Trelawney said sharply.  "Don't change the details.  You know what it was."

            Snape was apprehensive now.  It was a comical sight:  the potions teacher with the long untidy hair wearing his black robes and a timid expression on his face.

            "All right, then, Professor Trelawney.  I will tell you everything!" he yelled defiantly, trying to mask his fear.  "I had a dream about Minerva McGonagall.  She was standing right over there, behind a wolf.  She was caressing him, fondling him, and she was beautiful and young, and naked.  I wanted her; I wanted to bring her down on the floor and ravage her--"

            "Really, Severus.  I don't want to hear _everything_," Trelawney broke in.

            "Then the wolf charged after me and nearly killed me!"  finished Snape, pretending that he hadn't said anything out of the ordinary.

            "And what was _I_ doing in the dream?"  asked Trelawney suspiciously.  She hoped that she at least had clothes on.

            "You were, well, you were just sitting there with some Tarot cards," said Snape.  "And then you disappeared and the wolf was sitting there instead."

            "And when you say 'wolf,' you mean Remus Lupin."  Trelawney was speaking quickly now.  "There is no way of getting around that, you know it, too.  You long for what he has, and when you look at him, you feel jealousy ripping through your body.  This jealousy inflicts more pain than his fangs could have done years ago.  You know of what I am speaking:  when you entered the Whomping Willow and almost met the werewolf face to face.  You were spared from him then, but there is nothing to spare you from him now.  I can see the pain searing through you.  It is destroying your aura; it is tearing you up inside.  Severus, you must stop this.  You must stop this immediately.  Cease this senseless obsession, lest your emotions betray you."

            "But what can I do?"  exclaimed Severus Snape.  "I hate him!  I want him dead!  He ought to be in Azkaban, that filthy werewolf!"

            "Please, Severus," Trelawney implored.  "I cannot read for you if you persist with this behavior.  I will _not_ have negative energy poisoning my place of residence."

            Snape put his head down, running his hands through the thick mass of hair upon his crown.  Trelawney had noted the desperate look in his eyes.  She must be very careful what she say to him.

            "In my experience," said Trelawney, "it's never too late to change one's outlook on life.  You'd be amazed at the difference a new smoky quartz can make, or an hour's worth of meditation, or even a new outfit.  Ah-ha!"  She paused dramatically.  "Is _that_ how it's going to be?"

            Snape looked up; his former teacher seemed to be talking to herself.  "_What_?" he inquired suspiciously.

            "Hmmm?  Oh, nothing.  I just had a vision," Trelawney said dismissively.

            "What kind of vision?"

            "Oh, something that will happen tomorrow," said the witch.

            "Good or bad?"

            "Good, very good," Trelawney assured him.  "Tell me, are you in the habit of collecting shampoo bottles?"

            "Uh, no..."

            "Really?  Because I see you in my vision, and you're surrounded by many bottles of shampoo," declared Trelawney.  "I don't quite know what it means.  I was hoping you'd be able to tell me."

            Snape fidgeted.  "I _did_ steal a hair dryer from Lockhart once," he admitted.

            Trelawney murmured, "Aaahhh," nodding her head in a knowing fashion.  "Yes, the hair dryer!  I was wondering where that fit in!  Now I realize what my vision pertains to.  I saw you setting your alarm clock an hour early.  And then you were standing amidst a torrent of falling water, cascading all over your body--"

            "Not more thundershowers," muttered Snape.

            "What was that?"

            "I said I love taking showers," said Snape.

            "Oh."  Trelawney smiled warmly.  "Yes, that is exactly what I was about to say.  You will acquire an intense love of bathing, starting tomorrow.  I have some conditioner you can borrow; the ladies simply adore the scent of a male fresh out of the shower.  Ah, he smells so clean and vibrant!  Not to say you aren't already vibrant, Severus.  I've known you ever since you were a young lad of thirteen, and you have always been a captivating individual.  So, you will pay extra attention to your hair and skin, perhaps with the aid of some exfoliant, and then you will waltz into breakfast knowing that you are the spitting image of the Alpha Male--every woman's fantasy, of course.  You will be confident and charming, and your smile will glow.  And your teeth--why, your teeth will be pearly white and sparkling!  My, what an exhausting vision!"  Trelawney sighed, wiping her palm across her forehead.  "They _do_ tire one out."

            "But it was fascinating," Snape said.  "I had no idea that _any_ of that was going to happen tomorrow."

            "That's why I'm the psychic, and you're the potions teacher," said Trelawney.

            "Of course."

            "Have you any more questions, Severus?"

            "No, thank you.  In the last ten minutes, I've had enough dealings with the Inner Eye to last me a lifetime."

            Professor Trelawney smiled.  "Why, that's wonderful.  But do stop in again if ever you need to."

            "Thank you, I'll keep that in mind," Snape remarked.  He slowly stood up and walked toward the exit.  Then, looking back briefly at her crystal ball, he climbed back down the ladder and descended the spiral staircase.  Before going to sleep, he set his alarm clock an hour ahead and got out Lockhart's old hairdryer, just in case Fate neglected to remind him in the morning.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

            A luminescent object was hovering in front of Hermione's face.

            "Open your mouth, honey," instructed the nurse, holding out the thermometer-like instrument.  It also looked suspiciously like a dentist's tool of torture.

            Hermione opened her mouth, and Madame Pomfrey placed the object upon her tongue.  "You two are up, next," she called cheerfully to Ginny and Draco.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

            An hour later, Ron and Harry were pounding on the entrance to Albus Dumbledore's office.

            "What do you want?"  snapped the gargoyle next to the door.

            "We want to see Professor Dumbledore!"  yelled Harry.  "It's very important."

            "What is this matter that's so important?"  questioned the gargoyle.

            "Hermione and Ginny are missing," Harry said quickly.  "And we think Draco's behind it."

            "Ah, that," said the gargoyle.  "His Lordship has already taken care of it."

            "His Lordship?"  gaped Ron.  "What are you talking about?"

            "Pardon me, young Weasley.  I meant to say that Dumbledore has already taken care of the matter.  I suggest you return to your dormitory and get some sleep," spoke the gargoyle.

            Pointing to the statue, Ron said, "What is this thing, Harry?  Some new butler of Dumbledore's?"

            "I guess so."  Harry shrugged his shoulders.  "Maybe he's tired of answering the door all the time."

            "Yeah, guess so."  Ron shrugged.  They returned to Gryffindor quarters, where they found Ginny and Hermione sleeping soundly on the two comfiest couches.  The girls' examinations had been so long and tedious that they'd passed out right there in the common room from exhaustion.

            Of course, Ron and Harry didn't know any of that.  They just stood there for several minutes scratching their heads.

            "Harry--d'ya think they coulda been here the whole time, and we just didna notice 'em?"  said Ron.

            "You know, Ron, I don't know what to think," said Harry.  "Maybe we'll figure it out in the morning."

            "Yes, I suppose so," said Ron.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

            Alas, Ronald Weasley and Harry Potter did not figure it out in the morning.  In response to the boys' obnoxious inquiries, Hermione and Ginny remained strangely silent on the matter of their whereabouts the previous evening.

            Ron was complaining about this shortly after showering.  "Why is she always keeping secrets from us?"  he whined, shaking water droplets from his attractive red hair.

            "She seems angry with us," observed Harry.

            "Maybe," muttered Ron.  "But we haven't _done_ anything.  Why would she be angry?"

            "She's a girl.  They start acting funny at this age," explained Harry.

            "Oh, yeah."  Ron took Harry's word for it, since he wouldn't know himself.  All of Ron's older siblings were males.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

            In the dining hall, three staff members were conducting what appeared to be a very confidential meeting.  Professor McGonagall and Madame Pomfrey had received a summons to meet with Albus Dumbledore that morning.  The Headmaster wanted to know the results of Pomfrey's physical examinations.

            He gestured toward the empty table.  "Have a seat."  The women made themselves comfortable, and he proceeded with the meeting.

            "Madame Pomfrey, did you find anything at all in the test results?"  he asked.

            "No."

            "What was that?"

            "No, sir.  I didn't find anything at all."

            "I don't understand..."  Dumbledore was now pacing to and fro and acting disoriented.

            "The children are in perfect health," continued Pomfrey.  "Absolutely sound in mind and body.  You couldn't find a healthier batch o' li'l uns in all o' Scotland."

            "Do you say?"  Dumbledore's voice had risen a whole octave.

            McGonagall said, "Maybe I should have a talk with them--you know, individually.  Hermione will talk to me, and so will Ginny.  They can talk to me about anything."

            "And what about Draco Malfoy?"  said Dumbledore.  "Do you think _he_ would talk to you, as well?"

            McGonagall sighed.  "I'm afraid the only teacher he would confide in is Severus Snape.  And that man is in no condition to offer guidance to a young boy."

            "No, no he isn't," agreed Pomfrey.

            McGonagall said optimistically, "But maybe there isn't anything to worry about.  Look at it this way:  ever since Draco came to this school, we've been hoping that he'd learn how to fit in with the other students and stop being such a stuck-up, anti-social Malfoy.  And now he seems to be getting _nicer_.  Maybe he's finally growing up."

            "And maybe I'll finally have a permanent Defense Against the Dark Arts Teacher," growled Dumbledore.

            "What, you don't think Draco's capable of changing?"  demanded McGonagall.

            "No, I don't.  He's been groomed and polished as a Malfoy since the day he was born," declared Dumbledore.  "I don't see what could make him change so quickly."

            Just then, Severus Snape entered the dining hall.  He stopped short as the teachers' heads swiveled around to stare at him.  All discussion of Hermione, Ginny and Draco abruptly ended.

            Snape was wearing a light fur cape of a silvery hue, and his hair had been washed at least three times, for it was now wavy and soft instead of oily.  He had brushed it away from his face into a dignified ponytail, and it became him quite well, making him look like one of those French aristocrats from the early 18th century.  As Snape met his co-workers' eyes, he forced his lips into a smile.  A smile--such an alien landform across his weathered face!  However, his face looked somehow less weathered today.  It was because he rubbed some moisturizing lotion all over his skin.  But don't tell anyone you know this; Snape would rather have it kept secret.

            "Hello, Severus," McGonagall broke the silence.  "How are you doing?"

            "I'm no worse off than yesterday," remarked Snape, wishing they wouldn't stare at him so.  He wasn't used to getting attention.

            Dumbledore stepped forward.  "Is that a new robe, Severus?"

            "No; it belonged to my father.  I've had it for years," answered Snape.  "So, what were you all discussing just now?"

            "Nothing," said Dumbledore.

            "Oh, really?"  said Snape, scrutinizing the old man with his piercing gray eyes.  He could tell the Headmaster was lying.

            "Yes," said Dumbledore, trying to shake off the unnerving sensation that Snape was reading his mind.  "Why don't you take a seat; it's nearly time for breakfast."

            "Are you planning on making any more alterations to this Secret Santa game?"  questioned Snape as he sat down beside Madame Pomfrey.

            "No.  The rules will remain the same.  I only have one change in my daily agenda, and that is to make my announcements in International Sign Language," stated Dumbledore.

            "What?"  the three adults exclaimed in unison.

            "I do believe sign language is one of the most beautiful forms of communication used by mortals.  In addition to being aesthetically pleasing, it is also universal--understandable to people of all different languages and dialects," said Dumbledore.  "And I would like Minerva to translate for me."

            "Why, sir," began Minerva McGonagall.  "I'll try my best, but it's been such a long time since I've signed--"

            "You'll do fine," said Dumbledore.  "Oh, and I also have one more question.  What belt is Remus up to now?"

            "Fourth degree black belt," replied McGonagall.  "Why?"

            "It's about time we give the students something constructive to do," said Dumbledore.  "They should benefit from some martial arts instruction."

            "Oh, I see."  McGonagall's eyes lit up, taking in his meaning.  The kids needed something fun to do to take their minds off sex.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

            Those were the events leading up to McGonagall's fumbling and fuming at the breakfast table.  Soon after the students and staff had all assembled in the dining hall, Dumbledore arose and cracked his knuckles noisily.  Then, without warning, he began moving his hands in mid-air.  To those unfamiliar with the language of the deaf, they appeared to be dancing.

            "What is he doing?"  whispered Ginny to no one in particular.

            McGonagall struggled to keep pace.  "Today is Sunday, December 23rd.  We have two days left before Christmas, and you know what that means.  Time to get settled down and think about what you want to give your Secret Santa partner.  Professor Flitwick has agreed to teach us some useful charms for eating as many munchies as we like and not gaining a pound.  Which reminds me--after breakfast, you will immediately go to the--what in the world is that?"

            Dumbledore had made a gesture that was beyond her recognition.  Trying to make her understand, he pointed to the wall.

            "To the wall?"  cried McGonagall.  "But why would anyone--"

            Dumbledore shook his head.  His hand was jumping over an invisible obstacle.

            "You want them to go over a hill?"  guessed McGonagall.  "A sledding trip?  No?"

            Professor Flitwick joined in, "A skiing trip!  With little bunny slopes!"

            Dumbledore sent him a quizzical look.  Flitwick whispered to Chrystal, "I thought we were playing charades.  Didn't you?"

            McGonagall ventured, "Oh, I've got it!  Snow shoeing!"

            Dumbledore wildly shook his head.  "The Veranda," he enunciated.  "I want them to gather on the veranda for a lesson."

            "Oh," said McGonagall, folding her hands primly.  She turned to the students, "The Headmaster would like you to report to the veranda after breakfast."  Dumbledore made another series of signs.  "For martial arts lessons, taught by Remus Lupin--"  The boys let out whoops of excitement.  She translated the last words of his sentence, " 'and Professor McGonagall.'  Why, that's me!  I don't know anything about Tae Kwon Do!"

            Dumbledore shrugged.  Then McGonagall thought to herself, 'Oh, wait.  This is a good thing.  Why am I complaining?'

            She clapped her hands enthusiastically.  "All righty then, doesn't that sound like fun?  I can hardly wait," she exclaimed and sat down to breakfast.  She conveniently assumed that Dumbledore had no further announcements and spread a large pat of butter on her pancakes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

            Now that everyone was no longer distracted by Dumbledore's rapid signing, several people noticed Snape's new look.  Trelawney wasn't around to claim her work, so they had to endure their curiosity.  Snape was not in the mood to make small talk.

            "Can you please pass the maple syrup?"  Draco asked Ron.

            Ron took one look at Draco's downtrodden face and nearly fainted.  "Am I in an alternate universe?"  Ron blurted out.

            "Yes.  You're in a universe in which all maple syrup has been replaced by molasses," said Draco.  "Now can I please have my syrup?  Pancakes getting cold over here."  He hated to reach over and grab the jar himself; it was so common.  Draco was raised to have decent table manners.

            "Okay," sighed Ron and passed him the jar of maple syrup.  He thought he heard Draco utter a whispered 'thank you.'  Ron raised his eyebrows, wondering what else could possibly happen today.

……………………to be continued


	5. A Martial Arts Lesson

**Chapter 5**

__

_~~~~~~~~~_

            The martial arts lesson turned out to be quite satisfactory.

            "Minny, I mean, Professor McGonagall," said Lupin.  "You can help me demonstrate this technique.  It's called 'ho shin sool.'  That's Korean for 'self-defense.'"

            The children looked up with curiosity, but McGonagall only shook her head bashfully.  "Oh, no you don't," she said to Lupin.

            "Why not?  It's fun," Lupin told her.

            "I'm much too old to be tossed around like that Jackie Chan fellow," said McGonagall.

            "But Jackie Chan is older than you are; he's in his fifties!"  cried Lupin.  "And he's a Muggle.  If he can do it, even Dumbledore can."

            "I'd like to see that happen," McGonagall mused thoughtfully.

            "Don't worry, Professor.  I'm not going to toss you around."  Lupin smiled, holding out his hand.  "Come here, Minerva.  Show them what you're made of.  If I recall correctly, Minerva was the Roman goddess of wisdom, ingenuity, and warfare.  You _do_ want to live up to your namesake, don't you?"

            McGonagall smiled.  "All right, I'll give it the old college try.  But only if you promise not to throw me around."

            Lupin raised his eyebrows.  He was about to say, 'I didn't hear any objections last night,' but then he remembered they were surrounded by students.

            He chose to say instead, "I promise.  Now, stand in front of me and grab my left shoulder with your right hand."

            McGonagall placed her palm tentatively upon Lupin's shoulder.  Immediately, the familiar electricity came flooding into her fingertips just from that little contact.

            He reached up with his right hand and squeezed her attacking palm, putting pressure upon the fleshy area below her thumb.  At the same time, he slid his left arm inside her elbow and forced her arm into a crooked S-shape.

            "Ow, that hurts," cried McGonagall.

            "Oh, sorry, Professor."  Lupin let go of her.  "When it starts hurting, that's about the time we tap our leg--just like this.  That shows our partner that we've had enough."

            He turned toward the students.  "What I did just now may look very simple and quick, but it takes a lot of practice and concentration to do it right.  There are pressure points along the arm, and you need to know where they are to hurt your opponent.

            "Now, who knows what the goddess Minerva was called in Grecian mythology?"

            Elaine was the only one to raise her hand.  For once, Hermione didn't participate.  "Was it Athena?"  asked Elaine.

            "Yes!  Very good.  Athena she was.  Five points to Ravenclaw!"  Lupin declared.

            Draco was grateful for this little distraction that Lupin and McGonagall were providing.  He found it interesting.  Who knew that Lupin was a black belt in Tae Kwon Do?  So _that's_ what the man was doing now that he was out of Hogwarts:  teaching bloody Muggles how to defend against members of their own species.

            Draco slouched down further in his chair and lazily reached into his pocket.  Everyone else was looking at Lupin and McGonagall.  No one would notice Draco as he opened his glass jar and let the spiders go free onto the porch.  There they went!  They must've been hungry, those little buggers.  Draco half hoped the spiders would scurry over to Ron, but they didn't.  They just scattered along the pavement looking for food.

            Draco screwed the lid back on and put the empty jar in his pocket.  He'd have to think of a new present for Ron now.  Blast Dumbledore for adding more rules to this game!  Draco wasn't about to risk getting seven weeks of bad luck just to hear Weasley scream like a girl.  Seven weeks of good luck, however, was very tempting at the moment.  Hermione was very tempting.

            Remus Lupin was informing them on the history of his sport.  "Did you know that Tae Kwon Do is one of the oldest forms of martial arts in the world?  It dates back to over 2,000 years ago.  That's older than Hogwarts."

            Ginny was sitting a few yards away from Draco.  She hadn't spoken to him at all that morning.  He looked kind of bored.  Was he mad at her?  No.  It was _his_ idea to break into the prefects' bathroom.  And after all, they hadn't been punished.  Oh, one may _say_ that being trapped on the porch was a punishment, but it was more entertaining than not.

            Remus Lupin had always been a popular teacher, especially among the female students.  Ginny forced herself to hold back a smile as she watched Lupin.  He had luscious brown eyes and smooth, white skin.  And the way his clothes fell on him, they were just _begging_ to be ripped off!

            "The Hwarang, which means Flower of Youth, was a group of elite warriors organized by King Jin Heung," said Remus Lupin.  "The kingdom of Silla was very small and constantly under attack from foreign armies, so the King gathered together the noble born sons within his kingdom and trained them in what would eventually be called Tae Kyon."

            Ginny wondered if Lupin was going to let the students practice with him one-on-one.  It would be a dreadful shame if they just had to sit there, watching him toss around McGonagall.  Lucky McGonagall!

            Hermione, meanwhile, was deep in thought, trapped amidst her tangled web of woes.  She appeared to be concentrating on the lesson, though.  She had done such a good job of listening in the past that she'd got the look down pat.

            Her chances of becoming a prefect now seemed dismal to Hermione.  If only she hadn't disobeyed the rules last night!  And for what?  To be with Draco Malfoy!  Where was her mind?  Why did she like him?  Just a week ago, she couldn't see past his arrogance and snide remarks, and now she was seeing a whole new layer of him!

            Hermione through her muddled reasoning kept arriving at the same conclusion:  she must be insane.

            But that meant that Draco was insane, too.  Or maybe...  No, Hermione didn't like the idea that Draco might be using her.  He was sneaky, but he wouldn't use her.  _Nobody_ would dare use _her_!  The very idea was appalling.  Hermione was a Force to be Reckoned With.  People respected her.

            Draco was...  Draco was... Draco was being weird, like all boys, and that was that.

            "...Tae Kyon.  The Hwarang was not only taught how to develop their bodies, but their minds and spirits as well.  They studied history, poetry, philosophy..."  Lupin noticed that his students' attention had been diverted to a trail of spiders running along the ground.  Lupin continued in a slightly louder voice, "Ahem.  Who wants to come up here and be my new assistant?"

            Ginny's hand went up automatically, and Lupin called on her.  (By the way, he had no idea that the girls thought he was cute.)  He assigned the other students into pairs and told them to watch carefully, as they would be practicing the next drill with each other.  "Harry, Hermione.  Ron, Chrystal.  Slyvia, Jessup.  Draco..... Marvin.  Elizabeth, Elaine.  Very good.  Now, everybody face your partner and give a bow."

            Lupin asked Ginny, "So, have you done any martial arts before?"

            Ginny shook her head.

            "Well, it's very fun.  And we never actually hurt each other in these self-defense drills.  Except for the pressure points; those hurt sometimes.  We may practice grabbing and throwing our partners down on the ground, but we never actually punch or kick anyone.  We come very close to the body, but we never punch, kick, or strike while we're not wearing our sparring gear.  If I see anyone who's not taking this seriously, I'll have to ask them to leave.  You need self-control for partner drills.

            "Now, then.  I'm about to teach you a Green Belt self-defense move, Ginny.  We start learning self-defense at the Green Belt level.  You're going to be the attacker for now and grab my wrist.  My right wrist, with your left hand," he instructed, and she firmly grabbed his wrist, wondering what would come next.  "Now I step forward into horse riding stance.  In Korean, we call this stance 'choo choom sogi.'"  He slid his right foot forward along the ground and positioned it between Ginny's legs.  Horse riding stance meant that his knees were bent and his legs were spread about three feet apart.

            "At the same time, I jerk my arm out of Ginny's grip, turning my whole torso, and then do an elbow strike to her solar plexus.  Then comes a backfist strike to the face."  He did these maneuvers in slow motion at first, and then he did them a second time, more swiftly.  Ginny was simply supposed to stand there while he counter-attacked.  While she did so, she noticed an attractive gleam in his eyes.  It was the look of intense concentration.  Mmmm.  It was the look of focused energy.  Mmmm.  His eyes were like the windows of his manly, energetic, sweat producing soul.

            "Now, I'll be the attacker, and you can be the counter-attacker," said Lupin, totally oblivious to the wild thoughts dashing through young Ginny's mind.  "Do you remember the steps?"

            Ginny nodded.  "Mm-hm."

            She and the rest of the students executed the drill until it was well polished, and surprisingly, no one got injured.  Lupin then showed them how to do some kicks, using McGonagall for his assistant once again.  He enjoyed torturing her.  Well, it wasn't really torture, but you know what I mean.  McGonagall was the type of woman who would rather learn ballroom dancing.  In the days of her youth, she had enjoyed Quidditch, but that was over twenty years ago, and Quidditch was poles apart from 'that Jackie Chan stuff.'  Nevertheless, McGonagall was beginning to develop a tolerance for tae kwon do.  It was bearable if one didn't work hard enough to get all sweaty.  Goodness, she had to maintain some professional standard of hygiene.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

            Snape ventured a peep out the window, trying to remain inconspicuous.  The children's lesson was almost over, and Lupin was teaching McGonagall how to do a proper front snap kick.  Snape forced his lungs to take in a deep breath of oxygen; it was so difficult to breathe when Minerva McGonagall was nearby.

            Forlorn, he let the curtains fall back into place and walked away.  He had to get out of the castle.  He couldn't stand these feelings building up inside of him; they were like waves upon a storm-tossed sea.  Just when he thought he had a moment's peace, he was rising to the top of yet another crest of agony.  He needed a distraction.

            After searching for a half hour, Snape finally found Dumbledore in the kitchen supervising the house elves' work.  He sidled up to the Headmaster and said quietly yet firmly, "Excuse me, sir."

            Dumbledore turned his head.  "Yes?"

            "I'll be in Hogsmeade this afternoon," announced Snape.  "I need to buy more potions ingredients."

            "Very well, Severus," said Dumbledore.

            "I would like to bring Draco Malfoy with me, if it's all right with you," added Snape.

            "Draco Malfoy?"  Dumbledore reiterated.

            "Yes.  He is very eager to learn about the intricacies of potion making," explained Snape.  "I'm sure Lucius would agree with me that Draco ought to be doing something productive with his vacation, since he isn't spending it with his family."

            Dumbledore went through the pros and cons very quickly in his head.  Pro:  Draco Malfoy would be out of his way.  Con:  ©╩╬¤¢ĦǾ≠Ж£§Ю—4;ב—3;Щإ↔↕خذضÞپ??.?..**?**...**?....****?**

            There were no cons as far as Dumbledore could see, and so he allowed Snape to drag Malfoy along with him to Hogsmeade.

            Dumbledore thought of another pro as Snape was leaving the kitchen:  Lucius Malfoy would be pleased that Draco was brushing up on his studies.  Maybe one of these days, Lucius would stop griping about the way Dumbledore ran his school.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

            Draco caught Ginny's gaze as she looked over at him.  She waited for him to speak, but he merely gawked at her, not knowing what to say, and she averted her eyes as she scurried up the stairs.

            Draco sighed.  She was going up to the Gryffindor Common Room, no doubt.  Hopefully, things would soon go back to normal.  He and the girls wouldn't feel awkward and guilty forever, would they?  He _would_ get another chance to--

            His train of thought was broken as somebody called his name.

            "Malfoy," beckoned Professor Snape.  He was swiftly advancing down the corridor toward him.  "We are taking a trip this afternoon."

            "What kind of trip?"  inquired Draco.

            "A field trip," replied Professor Snape.  "I've already told Dumbledore that we're going to Hogsmeade to get some more ingredients for potions class."

            "Are we all going?  All of us...students?"  asked Draco.

            "All of you?  Oh, no.  It's not a class trip," declared Professor Snape, as if the thing were out of the question.  He looked around the empty hallway and, lowering his voice, he enlightened his protégé further, "Just between you and I, Malfoy, we're not staying in Hogsmeade.  I have very important business at a certain establishment in Knockturn Alley.  If you wish, you may come with me.  It will be very informative."

            "Are you serious?"  said Draco incredulously.

            "When have I ever _not_ been serious?"  his teacher uttered thickly.

            "Oh, you are serious then."  Draco let the news sink in, and then he said, "Well, when are we leaving?"

            "As soon as possible," answered Professor Snape.

            "I can handle that," said Draco.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

            Once in Hogsmeade, Professor Snape led Draco into an old tavern with a fireplace in the back room.  Some wizards were playing billiards and drinking ale, but they barely looked up from their game as Snape and Draco entered the room.

            "What are we doing here?" asked Draco impatiently.

            "We're using Floo Powder," answered Snape.  He walked over to the massive fireplace and pulled out a red velvet pouch from his pocket.  "Don't worry; they're used to it.  This portal gets used all the time.  That's what it's here for."  He sprinkled a bit of floo powder into Draco's upturned palm and said calmly, "After you, Malfoy."

            They were gone in a wisp of green smoke, and the other wizards didn't bat an eyelash, not even when the words "Knockturn Alley" were uttered.

            Draco found himself in a desolate space wedged between two buildings.  At the end of the corridor, he could see the crowded streets of Knockturn Alley.  What an interesting district it was.  Draco truly felt at home there.

            The true Slytherin at heart could be free from the flourescent Christmas cheer that permeated the rest of the world at that time of year.  There were no multi-colored light bulbs lining the storefronts.  There were no tacky advertisements to buy crap that nobody needed.  And best of all, there were no couples walking side by side holding hands.  Draco and Snape were spared from that sickening sight, thank God.  People who needed people were the most pathetic things on Earth.

            Knockturn Alley was the place where Lucius Malfoy did much business in the past.  He had to sell many of his old belongings there a couple of years ago because that nosy and meddlesome Ministry of Magic had planned to ransack his house.  Talk about a violation of privacy!  Thankfully, the Ministry hadn't found anything incriminating, and Lucius Malfoy continued to be a wealthy and influential member of the wizarding world.

            Professor Snape appeared at the end of the corridor.  He glanced back at Draco and said, "Well, aren't you coming?"

            Draco picked up his heels and followed the professor out of the alley and down the street.  "Do you know what a Runespoor is?"  asked the professor.

            "Yes, a Runespoor is a type of snake," answered Draco with Slytherin precision.

            "That is why we're here.  To buy one," said Snape, keeping an eye out for pick pockets.

            "I heard you can only get one on the black market," said Draco.

            "Yes, that's true.  You have a good memory."

            "Is there any special reason why you want one?"  asked the boy.

            "Why, no.  I thought it would make a good pet," said the professor sarcastically.  "The Runespoor has the unique ability to lay eggs in its mouths.  These eggs have special properties, and it is for these properties that I desire to lay my hands on a Runespoor."

            Draco reached far back into his memory of potions class.  A Runespoor--a three headed serpent with black and orange markings...  "Their eggs are used to stimulate mental agility, aren't they?"

            "Exactly," said Snape.  He slowed his walk; up ahead he could read the sign of Cerridwen's Karaoke Bar.  "Can you keep secrets, Malfoy?"

            Draco said thoughtfully, "It depends on how much I get paid."

            "Ah, very good.  Now, if we succeed in taking care of this Runespoor and hiding it from everyone else at Hogwarts, we will be able to win back our glory from Gryffindor."

            Draco was beginning to catch on.  Snape continued, "With the Runespoor's eggs, we can make enough potion for all of Slytherin House."

            Draco interrupted, "But we don't need it!  We can beat Gryffindor without any potions!  They're lazy bums!"  'Except for Hermione and Ginny,' he thought.

            "I understand your pride, Malfoy.  I feel the same way.  For the past four years, the House Cup has been handed over to Gryffindor when it rightly belonged to Slytherin.  It's because Dumbledore is prejudiced against us.  Perhaps he is getting senile in his old age.  Who knows?  I am merely evening out the playing field.  There will be no way for Dumbledore to play favorites by the end of the year," promised Professor Snape.  "We _will_ destroy our competition.  And Minerva McGonagall will find out that she can't have everything she wants."

            Draco followed Snape as he entered the exotic pet store next to the bar.  He couldn't help but admire his professor's sophisticated plan.  As Head of Gryffindor House, McGonagall had enjoyed the coveted House Cup for four years too many, in Snape's opinion.  But he was now ready to take action--this streak of injustice would not go on indefinitely.

………………to be continued


	6. Draco's Story

**Chapter Six**

~~~~~~~~~

            Hermione was sobbing at Professor McGonagall's desk in her Transfiguration classroom.  McGonagall set a box of tissues upon the table and waited for the girl to discover them herself.

            "I don't know what's wrong with me," sobbed Hermione.

            "There's nothing wrong with you, dear," assured McGonagall.

            "But Harry and Ron don't understand me at all.  They never did."

            "You must have some female friends you can count on," said McGonagall.

            "Only Ginny," lamented Hermione.  "She's a good friend, she really is, but I wish that Harry and Ron would understand me more.  And they're making such a big deal about Draco Malfoy, and we got in trouble last night, and he's never going to talk to me again!"  she screeched.

            McGonagall winced as the vibrations hit her eardrums.  She said, "Don't worry about that, Hermione.  Nobody else in the school knows except for the three of you.  Dumbledore and I won't tell anyone--"

            "But _Draco_ knows!"  moaned the girl.  "Oh, I wish that things would go back to the way they were--the way they used to be, before Draco--before Draco--before he _kissed_ _me_!"

            McGonagall could hardly imagine why the two young people would want to kiss each other.  They'd been enemies for the last four years--ever since they met each other!  "I don't understand, Hermione.  You and Draco are like oil and water."

            "I don't understand it, either!"  wailed Hermione.  "But I suddenly saw this other side of him, and he's cute now, and we played _Quidditch together_!"  She grabbed a tissue and blew her nose.

            "Would you really like things to go back to the way they were?"  asked McGonagall.  "I mean, think about it.  Would you really want to hate Malfoy again?  And would you really want him to think about you in that old light?"

            Hermione shook her head.  "No, no, anything but that..."

            "Then relax today and don't say anything you might regret in the future," advised McGonagall.  "Once the two of you calm down, you and Draco will be friends again--"

            Hermione began to sob, "No, we won't..."

            "Yes, you will," said McGonagall.  Why the hell was she saying this?  Draco was no proper suitor for the intelligent, yet sensitive Hermione.  McGonagall sighed.  She knew what she had to do to calm the girl down.  "Things like this happen all the time.  If you're good friends, and if you're meant to be together, then there's nothing to worry about.  So if you just calm down and treat him with respect, then there's no reason why you two shouldn't patch things up."  Whatever those 'things' were...

            Hermione smiled a little.  "Thanks, Professor.  I'll try to relax.  I--I guess I'm over reacting."  She brushed away a tear streaming down her cheek.

            "That's all right," said McGonagall.  "Keep the tissues, it's my gift to you.  We have to express our emotions, or else we'll go crazy.  It's no good to bottle anything up."

            Hermione nodded, sniffling.

            McGonagall said, "I'm glad you decided to talk to me.  If you don't remember anything else from Transfigurations class, I want you to remember that no boy is worth suffering for.  Not a single one.  If a boy makes you miserable, then there's obviously something wrong with him, and he needs to be tossed aside.  But for your sake, and Draco's, I hope he's not one of the rotten ones."

            "Thank you," said Hermione.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

            Severus Snape let the reptile slither across his shoulders.  Its scales were surprisingly smooth and cool to the touch.  It was beautiful.

            One of the serpent's heads coiled around Snape's neck, and he was alarmed at how exciting it felt to have a snake's body touching his flesh.  It was almost a guilty pleasure.  The other two heads were hissing serenely as Snape held the Runespoor in his hands.  They were letting him pet their black and orange body.  They liked him.

            Draco was eyeing the snake with envy.  "Can I hold it?"  he asked.

            "Not yet," said the professor, thinking of a name for his new pet.  How would Sebastian sound?  Hmmm...  Not edgy enough.  What about Avril?

            He asked the sales person, or rather, the sales vampire, "It's a girl, right?"

            "Yes," answered the pale, slender man.

            "Thank you," said Snape.  It would have to be a girl, or else it wouldn't lay any eggs.  "Malfoy, how do you like the name 'Avril'?"

            "For the snake?"  asked Draco.

            "No, for your future daughter with Hermione Granger," snapped Snape.

            "Oh, well, I haven't thought about a name for her yet," Draco began.  He then realized that Snape was being sarcastic, and he tried to recover from his slip-up.  "Ha, ha.  Just kidding.  I knew you meant the snake.  Yeah, Avril is an awesome name.  Very edgy."

            "That's exactly what I thought," said Professor Snape, giving his protégé an odd look.  Could it be that the boy had actually fallen for that Mudblood Granger?  If so, he was in worse straits than Snape himself.

            "I'd like to take her home today," Snape told the sales vamp.

            "Do you need a carrier?"  offered the vamp.  "Or a dozen mice?"

            "How much would it all come to?"  asked Snape.

            "We have a sale today.  It's only twelve Galleons for the Runespoor, an extra seven Sickles for the carrier and mice," said the vamp.  He licked his lips; Slytherin wizards were always appetizing to him.

            Fortunately, Professor Snape didn't notice that his neck was being ogled.  He went about his business as usual.  "I'll take everything for 12 G 7 S."  It was a good price.

            "All right.  Just a moment."  The vamp went into the backroom to get the supplies.  Meanwhile, Snape was still playing with Avril.  Draco didn't know how the professor would manage to tear himself away from her.  Eventually, he would have to place her in the carrier to smuggle her into Hogwarts.

            But until then, Snape took the creature everywhere.  Avril quickly turned out to be a chick magnet in Knockturn Alley.  For instance, there was a cute waitress at _The Hound of Baskerville's Steak and Bar _who gave Snape her owling address.  She thought he looked hot with a serpent draped around his neck.  She also thought he was rich, but Snape wasn't about to split hairs.  He had the address memorized within ten seconds.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

            There were four individuals in the Gryffindor Common Room.  Ginny and her new friend Elizabeth were practicing Tae Kwon Do moves, and Ron and Harry were sitting in front of the fire discussing their latest plan.

            "Harry!"  cried Ron.  "I have an idea!"

            "I'm listening," said Harry.

            "Why don't we use your Invisibility Cloak to spy on Malfoy?"  suggested Ron.

            "That's bloody brilliant!"  cried Harry.  "Why didn't I think of that?"

            "Because I thought of it first," said Ron.

            Harry nodded.  "Where is Malfoy?"

            "I don't know," said Ron.  "Let's put on the cloak and find him!  Maybe he's with Hermione right now!  We'll catch him in the act--"

            "Are you sure we want to?"  said Harry.

            "Oh, not _that_ act!  But whatever he's doing, we'll catch him at it!"  said Ron.

            Ginny, having finished her ten roundhouse kicks, informed Ron that Hermione was in the Transfigurations classroom.  "She went to speak to Professor McGonagall," said Ginny.  "If you want to find her, that's probably where she'll be."

            "Oh, Ginny!"  said Ron, forgetting that she was in the room.  "I--I meant to ask you a question, but you flew away this morning, and--"

            "I know.  I meant to do that," said Ginny quickly.  "You're annoying lately."

            "Where were you last night?"  Ron demanded.

            "I've said it before, and I'll say it again," said Ginny.  "That's none of your business."

            "Why do you have to be so ornery?"  Ron grumbled.

            "I'm allowed to.  I'm the little sister."  Ginny smiled at him, doing a double knife hand strike in his direction.  Elizabeth clutched her blue flannel scarf and laughed at them in amusement.  She wasn't used to hanging out with Ron and Ginny, or Gryffindors at all, for that matter.  She was a 6th year Hufflepuff, and she liked to spend a lot of time alone.  When she did go out, though, she enjoyed herself immensely.  Harry Potter's dormitory seemed to have the most fun of all the dorms she'd been in.

            Ron glowered at Ginny and returned to whispering with Harry.  "So we'll take the Invisibility Cloak and use it to spy on Hermione in Transfigurations."

            "That's brilliant!"  said Harry again.  "Because we'll find out more that way!  She won't tell us anything if she knows we're there, but we can hear her talking to McGonagall!"

            "Exactly!"  said Ron.  Harry scrambled up to his room and unlocked his trunk.  Two minutes later, he and Ron were exiting the common room under the shroud of invisibility.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

            Draco looked up from his scrumptious T-bone steak.  He and his professor were sitting at a table by the window, eating lunch amidst the rustic atmosphere of _The Hound of Baskerville's Steak and Bar_.

            "Professor Snape?"  the boy said furtively.

            "Yes?"  muttered Snape, hastily swallowing his mouthful of mashed potatoes.

            "I'm afraid I've done something wrong," said Draco quietly.

            Snape set down his fork.  "What do you mean, 'wrong?'"

            "I...I'm afraid I took too much of that larghe vedute serum," Draco admitted.

            "What do you mean, 'too much?'"

            "Just like I said:  too much.  Remember how the instructions said not to take more than two servings a day?"  asked Draco.

            "Yes, I know the directions," said Professor Snape, who didn't need to be reminded how to handle his own potions.

            "Well, I sort of overdosed.  I didn't mean to, but after I accidentally gave some to Hermione, everything--just--spiraled downward from there," said Draco.

            Snape gave him a long, stern look.  "Don't tell me you've used it all up," he said.

            "Oh, no," said Draco.  "That's not it.  I still have a lot left.  But Hermione--and Ginny--I let them have some."

            "Well, what's the problem?"  asked Snape.

            Draco said earnestly, "I think I'm addicted."

            Snape shook his head.  "You're not addicted.

            "But I love it!"  cried Draco.

            "There is no way for you to become physically, mentally, or in any other way addicted to Larghe Vedute Serum," said Professor Snape.  "The addictive properties of opium disappear when mixed with whale blubber."

            "Really?"  said Draco.

            "Yes.  The only reason the directions warn against taking too much is to ensure that nobody runs off to join some alien-worshipping cult, or gets suckered into a get-rich-quick scheme, or decides to give all his money away to some half-assed charity."

            "Oh," replied Draco.

            Snape concluded, "If you genuinely love being on Larghe Vedute Serum, then the only thing you're addicted to is being open-minded."

            "Oh," said Draco again.  He was even more confused now than he had been five minutes ago.

            "There's no reason why you should have to stop using it," said Snape.  "The ingredients are relatively inexpensive, and it's very simple to make."

            "Oh, yeah, that's good, but what about Hermione and Ginny?  They have no idea they were using it," said Draco.  "I want to tell them.  I want to let them in on it, but they might be angry at me."

            Snape remarked, "You didn't tell them?  Well then, how on earth have they been taking the serum?"

            "I, um, may have inadvertently transferred it to them..."

            "In English, please, Malfoy."

            "I kissed Hermione, after I put the potion on my lips," said Draco.  "And I let Ginny ride my broomstick, after I was carrying it, so that's how she first, well, you know.  That's how she came in contact with the potion.  And then, I injected some of my chocolates with larghe vedute and fed them to Ginny and Hermione at lunch yesterday."

            "Well thought out," Professor Snape commended.  "I suggest you tell them about your little potion while they're in a state of open-mindedness."

            "Oh, I will," said Draco quickly, wondering how and when he would get another opportunity to slip the girls more larghe vedute.

            Draco had been having flashbacks all throughout the morning.  He was mainly thinking about Friday evening, when he missed the train back home.  It had only been two nights ago!

            Before we examine Draco's version of how events transpired, let us become acquainted with the recipe for Larghe Vedute Siero, as copied below:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**di Larghe Vedute Siero  (or _Open-Mindedness Serum)_**

**Ingredients:          2 cups Whale Blubber**

**                                    1 sprig of Eucalyptus**

**                                    3 Mint Leaves**

**                                    9 drops of Nectar from a Snapping Opium Poppy**

**¼**** teaspoon of Powdered Fairies' Wings**

            **Step #1**.....Melt whale blubber in cauldron until it becomes easy to stir.  Lower heat.

            **Step #2**.....Stir in the rest of the ingredients one by one.   The mixture should become translucent, with a slight tinge of blue (from the fairies' wings.)

            **Step #3**.....Promptly remove from heat and let stand until the mixture attains a jelly-like firmness.  Scoop the serum into any durable container and enjoy.  The serum may be taken internally or applied to the skin.  It makes an excellent lip balm and moisturizer for dry, chapped skin.

            **Serving size:**  Depends on the personality of the individual.  For most, a dabbing of the balm upon the lips will induce open-mindedness immediately.  For long-lasting open-minded thinking, ingest a tablespoon of the serum once a day, or you may apply the mixture to the lips and hands once daily.  It is also effective anywhere else upon the skin's surface.

            This serum is highly potent.  It cannot be stressed enough that one is not to exceed **2** servings in the course of one day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

            On the evening that Draco missed the train home and ended up kissing Hermione Granger, he only remembered later that night what allowed him to kiss her.

            Draco recalled that while he was packing his suitcase, he noticed that his lips were dry from the cold winter.  He used the Larghe Vedute Serum on them, because he was in a hurry and didn't feel like searching for his regular chapstick.

            He'd inadvertently induced himself into a blissful state of open-mindedness!

            'But maybe it's not so bad after all,' Draco thought to himself that first night as he lay in bed.  He'd made out with a girl in his dormitory, and that wasn't something to be tossed aside so easily.

            But with Hermione Granger!  The girl with the Muggle parents!

            Draco's mind was troubled.  He groped along his bedside table and found the jar of larghe vedute.  He convinced himself that just a little more wouldn't hurt.  Draco dipped his fingers into the jar and spread it on his hands.

            Within seconds, Draco was at peace again.  The internal struggle was gone, and Draco went back to having warm, fuzzy thoughts of Hermione Granger.  Come to think of it, she _was_ a pretty girl.  Draco liked girls with fluffy hair.  And Muggles weren't as bad as his father always claimed.  Muggles were quite ingenious the way they got along without magic.  No wonder Hermione was so smart!  Draco smiled and drew the bedclothes around his chin.  He liked the minty smell of larghe vedute almost as much as he liked the smell of Hermione's hair.  They were beautiful.  Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful...

            Draco was soon fast asleep.

            When he awoke the next morning, he was wary of meeting everybody in the Grand Hall for breakfast.  Hermione had only kissed him back because the larghe vedute serum had got on her lips when he kissed _her_.  That allowed Hermione to clear her mind and see the other side of Draco--the side of him that was cute and quirky and debonair.  Surely the potion would have worn off by now, and she would go back to hating him!

            But when Draco saw the look on Hermione's face as he sat down to breakfast, he knew that she didn't hate him anymore.  Perhaps she had a real change of mind, despite the fact that the larghe vedute serum had worn off.  Well, just to be sure, he would have to reapply it whenever he got the chance.  He liked it when Hermione didn't automatically dismiss him.  If he could keep her open-minded long enough, he could permanently win her over with his natural charms.

            These were the memories that kept haunting Draco as he struggled to finish his steak.  Until now, he never knew what it felt like to lose one's appetite.

            Snape was attempting to feed Avril some of his leftover venison.

            "Um, professor?"  said Draco.  "I don't think deer is natural prey for the Runespoor."

            An affronted Avril turned all her three heads away from the leftover meat.

            Snape finally gave up.  "I suppose she'd rather have a fresh kill, anyway," he said.

…………………to be continued


	7. A Long and Pointless Afternoon

**Chapter Seven**

****

_~~~~~~~~~~_

            Hermione had left, and Minerva McGonagall was alone in the large Transfiguration classroom.  She pulled out a catalogue from her private desk and began leafing through it.

            "Speedy Delivery--Your Package will arrive in 24 Hours or Less!"  announced an advertisement on the first page.  Minerva put on her silver spectacles and flipped to the Divination Section.

            A few minutes later, a movement past the doorway caught her attention.  She turned her head but saw nothing.  That was odd; she could've sworn that somebody had just walked by.

            Then the person returned; it was her dashing young man, Remus Lupin.  He placed a hand on the doorjamb and gazed at Minerva from across the room.  Smiling tentatively, he said, "Hello, Minny."

            "Hello, Remus," said Minerva, pushing the book away from her.  "I've just been looking through this silly catalogue."

            Remus entered the room and, spying the empty chair that Hermione had been using, walked over to it and sat down.

            Minerva was now at eye level with him.  "I have to buy a Secret Santa present for Sibyll Trelawney," she said.

            Remus smiled, peering at the pictures on the open page.  "That would explain the Unbreakable Crystal Ball," he said humorously.

            Minerva chuckled.  "Oh, that!  I have no idea what Sibyll needs.  It seems like she has everything as it is."

            "Well, you don't have to get her anything witchy," said Remus.  "I've found Chinese fortune cookies are very good.  Does Sibyll have a sweet tooth?"

            Minerva raised her eyebrows thoughtfully.  "Perhaps.  Hmmm.  Maybe I could transfigure this book into a whomping big tin of fortune cookies."

            "Could you do that?"  Remus exclaimed, his stomach reminding him that lunch was close at hand.

            "Yes, I think so," said Minerva.  "I could turn each page into a separate cookie, but I'd have to practice first, or else they might taste too much like paper."

            "I hate it when that happens," said Remus.  He thought to himself, 'She looks more beautiful every time I see her.'  The color of her dress went perfectly with her strawberry blonde hair.  It was a deep, dark blue, like the color of a midnight sky.   "I like your dress.  It's very stylish," he said.

            Minerva ran her fingers over one of her soft, velvet sleeves.  "Thank you," she said warmly.

            "But then again, you're always fashionable," said Remus.

            She was giddy and self-assured all of a sudden; one look in his eyes made her open up her soul and bring out the happiest part of her being.

            Recalling Remus Lupin's old and shabby wardrobe from his year of teaching at Hogwarts, Minerva declared, "Fashion is over-rated."

            "Style, then," said Remus.  "I meant to say you're always stylish."

            Minerva smiled coyly, saying, "Why, thank you."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

            Harry was walking ahead of Ron.  They were squished together beneath the Invisibility Cloak, trying not to make a sound as they shuffled along the old, wooden flooring.

            "Ouch!  Ron, you stepped on my foot again," whispered Harry.

            "I can't help it if you've got big feet," said Ron.

            "Me?  You're the one with the clown feet, falling all over me," said Harry.

            "You know, this isn't as easy as it sounds," noted Ron.  "An invisibility cloak seems like a nifty idea, sure, but when you try to put it into practice...  I mean, they really need to invent an invisible bodysuit."

            "Are you on about that again?"  cried Harry.  He looked down at his feet and saw his toes peeping out from the cloak with every step he took.  "If you're going to talk about it, why don't you just go and invent it yourself?"  he asked.

            "I will," said Ron.

            Satisfied with Ron's promise to make him an Invisible Bodysuit one day, Harry Potter stopped talking, and the boys walked along in silence.

            They penetrated deeper into the castle.  It was unusually dark and empty with all the students away on vacation.  After many twists and turns, Ron and Harry finally entered the west wing.  They only had to go up one flight of stairs, and they would be two doors down from McGonagall's classroom.

            However, they wouldn't get a chance to spy on Hermione that day, for she came down the stairs just as they were going up.  The boys had to press against the railing to avoid touching her.

            Hermione loudly blew her nose as she passed them, and so she didn't notice the boys' heavy breathing.

            'That was a close one,' thought Ron.

            Harry let out a sigh as she reached the bottom of the stairs.  Then, as if in a silent accord, he and Ron turned around and followed Hermione.

            She led them straight back to Gryffindor Tower.  Standing in front of the Fat Lady, Hermione said quietly, "Greasy, grimy, gopher guts," the latest password.  The Fat Lady opened the passage door, bestowing a friendly smile upon Hermione, and the girl stepped inside.

            Harry and Ron were close behind Hermione.  They attempted to sneak in after her, but the Fat Lady slammed the door shut.

            "There'll be none of that shenanigans, thank you very much," said the Fat Lady crossly, giving them a disapproving glare.

            Harry scoffed.  "But we know the password!  It's 'greasy, grimy, gopher guts!'"

            "I don't care," she snipped.  "It's the principle of the thing.  When are you boys going to learn that you shouldn't go around spying on people?"

            "We wouldn't have to spy on her if she'd just tell us what's going on," said Ron in their defense.

            The Fat Lady went on, "Not only is it impolite, it's stalking.  No girl appreciates a stalker.  Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to finish my cinnamon coffee in peace and quiet.  Good day, gentlemen."

            The boys tore off the Invisibility Cloak in frustration and tossed it on the ground.

            "There's something weird going on," said Harry.

            "This is Hogwarts," said Ron.  "There's always something weird going on."

            "But this is different!"  Harry insisted.  "We've always been able to solve things before, but now it's like everyone knows what's going on except for us."

            "Like we're the only ones in the dark?"  paraphrased Ron.

            "Yeah," said Harry.  "You know, we ought to be able to figure it out.  After all, we did solve the mystery of the Philosopher's Stone."

            "And Tom Riddle's diary," added Ron.  "And we saved Ginny's life!"

            "And we found out that Sirius was innocent, and that Peter Pettigrew was to blame instead," continued Harry.

            "And we saved Buckbeak!"  exclaimed Ron, appalled that he almost forgot about Hagrid's former pet Hippogriff.

            "And I traveled back in time to save my own life, as well as everyone else's, with the Patronus Charm that Professor Lupin taught me," added Harry.

            "Also, you've escaped from the Dark Lord too many times to count," said Ron.

            "Yes, that is true," said Harry.  He pressed his ear against the common room door.

            "Do you hear anything?"  asked Ron.

            "Just a lot of giggling," replied Harry.

            "Damn it!  They're having a lesbian orgy, and we're missing it," said Ron.

            Harry quickly pried his ear away from the door.  "Ron!  Your sister is in there!"

            "Oh!"  Ron came out of his daydream with a start.  "Sorry.  I must've forgotten about that.  I take back the lesbian orgy thing I said.  It's--ewww, that's just wrong."

            Harry went back to eavesdropping.  "I think they're braiding each other's hair," he whispered.

            "What are they saying?"  inquired Ron.

            Harry said, "I can't tell.  Oh, wait!"  He paused.  "Hermione is telling Elizabeth that she likes her drawing."

            "A drawing?"

            "She drew a sketch of Ginny," explained Harry.

            "Who did?"  asked Ron.

            "Elizabeth," said Harry.

            "Wow, Ginny's finally making new friends," said Ron.  His sister Ginny was famous for her shyness.

            "Ron!"  Harry said angrily.  "You made me miss what they were saying."

            "Sorry."

            "Oh, great.  Now I can't hear anything," said Harry, leaning his body ever closer to the passage door.

            Suddenly, Harry was forced backward, and he landed on his bum.  "Ow!"

            The door had swung open, and Hermione was the first one to exit.  Seeing Harry sprawled out on the floor, she exclaimed, "Harry, are you all right?"  The other two girls gathered around him and offered him looks of sympathy.  Meanwhile, Ron was laughing his ass off.

            "What happened?"  asked Ginny, kneeling down beside her longtime crush Harry.

            Ron thought fast.  "We were just about to say the password, and then the door shot open and smashed Harry in the face!"

            "Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry!"  Hermione apologized.  She automatically bent down to comfort him and cradled his head in her hands.  His hair was so soft and black it reminded her of raven feathers.

            "I'm all right," said Harry, putting on his brave face.

            "Oh, I had no idea you were on the other side," gushed Hermione.  She examined his head.  "Oh, good.  I don't see any bruising."

            Just briefly, Ron was struck by her vague resemblance to Madame Pomfrey, but then he shook it off.

            "Will he be all right?"  asked Elizabeth.

            "Oh, sure," said Ron confidently.  "He's been through much worse.  This is like a paper cut to him.  No, less than a paper cut.  It's like a microscopic paper cut."

            "Oh, Harry," said Ginny breathlessly.  "You will be okay, won't you?  You didn't break your tail bone, did you?"

            Harry spluttered, "No, I don't think so!"

            "I'll help you up," said Ginny, placing her hand in his.

            "Good idea!"  said Hermione.  She grabbed his other hand, and they pulled him to his feet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

            Minerva McGonagall and Remus Lupin were about to enter the Grand Hall for lunch.

            Remus laid his hand on Minerva's waist.  "After you, Athena."  He pushed the heavy doors apart.

            "Thank you, Sir Remus my Jedi Knight," said Minerva.

            "Have you been watching that Muggle space movie again?"  said Remus as they strolled into the hall together.

            Minerva smiled.  "We watched the whole trilogy a week ago in the Staff Lounge."

            "Movie marathon?"  inquired Remus.

            Minerva nodded.

            "I really miss those," said Remus.

            Every other weekend, the teachers of Hogwarts would get together to view films-- preferably those with sequels.

            Minerva said temptingly, "This weekend, we're going to watch all the Monty Python movies."

            "I knew there was a reason why I came down this week!" said Remus, his face glowing with eagerness.  "I love Monty Python.  You know, I've always thought Sir Nicholas bore a resemblance to that John Cleese chap."  Sir Nicholas was a popular Gryffindor ghost.

            "Nearly Headless Nick?  Yes, I've often wondered about that, too," said Minerva.  "Maybe they're related."

            "Yes, that's probably it," said Remus.

            The two teachers sat down next to each other at the dining table.  Dumbledore smiled at McGonagall as she settled in her chair beside him, and he turned her glass of water into a Manhattan cocktail.

            "He remembered my favorite drink," she said, grinning at Lupin.

            He picked up his glass and frowned at the Headmaster.  "Where's mine?"

            Dumbledore scrunched up his eyebrows and murmured an incantation.  Immediately, Lupin's glass was filled with dry vermouth and gin.  There was also a jalapeño olive floating around in the bottom of his martini.  "That's better," said Lupin.

            McGonagall looked across the table and saw that Snape's chair was empty.  Her day was just getting better and better!  Professor Snape gave her seriously creepy vibes, mainly because she always got the feeling that he was checking her out.

            Lupin was also happy about Snape's absence.  "Looks like someone finally got the hint," he murmured to McGonagall.

            She giggled.  Poor Snape!  He was such an unpleasant man, and yet, she did feel sorry for him.  'But,' McGonagall reminded herself harshly, 'Severus Snape is a former Death Eater.'  No matter what he made of his life now, the past would never change.  At one point in time, Severus Snape had chosen to ally himself with Lord Voldemort.  In McGonagall's eyes, that was unforgivable, and so, she could never let herself feel _too_ sorry for him.

            Albus Dumbledore decided not to use sign language anymore, the novelty having worn off.  'But it was fun while it lasted,' he thought.  Dumbledore rarely passed up an opportunity to indulge his whims.  And his dreams.  And he mustn't forget his fantasies.  Oh, and that crazy balloon popping fetish...  He couldn't deny himself that one...

            Dumbledore lost his train of thought.  Where was he?  Ah, yes-- the Grand Hall.  What a lovely place.  Whose idea was it to enchant the ceiling into looking like the sky outside?  Pure genius!

            Dumbledore arose, his snowy white beard reaching down to the tabletop.  He smiled and said, "Good afternoon, all.  We're having chicken cordon bleu for our first course, followed by a delightful Chinese vegetable dish.  And for dessert, we will have tomato soup cake."  The Headmaster sat down and clapped his hands, and the first course materialized upon their waiting platters.

            Hermione nibbled her chicken distractedly, wondering where Draco was.  'Oh, dear.  I hope he's not avoiding me,' she thought.

            Ginny and Elizabeth were giggling with each other.  Harry looked up sharply; there was an odd yearning in his chest.  What were they talking about?  And why did those two French braids make Ginny look so cute?

            Ron muttered something to Harry.  His mouth was full of bamboo shoots, and Harry only heard the name 'Snape.'

            "What was that?"  asked Harry.

            "I _said_, I'm going to give him shampoo for Christmas, since he's obviously taken a liking to it," said Ron.  "Who do you have for Secret Santa?"

            Harry sighed.  "Ginny."

            Ron laughed.  "Now she's really going to have a crush on you."

            "Oh, well," said Harry resignedly.  "I can't think of anything.  Maybe I'll just copy Malfoy's idea and give her some chocolates."

            "Are you kidding?  She'll love you forever," said Ron.

            "She already does," said Harry.

            Ron cleaned his plate and prodded the tomato soup cake with his fork.  "We'll have to put our Operation Ferret on hold now," he said glumly.

            Operation Ferret was the name they had assigned to the act of spying on Draco Malfoy.

            "Why?"  asked Harry.

            "He's not here," muttered Ron.  "Take a look around, will you?  The absence of his voice should've been a dead giveaway."

            "Oh, yeah," said Harry.  "Maybe he went home."

            Ron guffawed.  "Wouldn't that be too good to be true?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

            The rest of the afternoon passed without much excitement.  The boys hung out in the middle of a second floor hallway.  Jessup, the first year student, showed Marvin, Harry, and Ron how to set their socks on fire without burning themselves.  This didn't destroy the clothing; it merely attacked lint fuzzies and sent an orange flame shooting along the surface of their socks.  Then they spent the next hour setting fire to anything that was cheap and cotton.  I really don't know why boys choose to amuse themselves in such strange ways, but they do.  That's truth, and I write the truth.  Darn tootin.

            The dinner gong was struck at quarter to six.  The boys hurried down the stairs, Harry looking out the window for signs of Malfoy.  Where _was_ that Slytherin?

            Harry stopped in his tracks, and Ron nearly bumped into him on the step above.  "It's Malfoy!  Look!"  shouted Harry, pointing out the figure that dotted the snowy landscape.

            "And Snape!"  shouted Ron.

            They were right:  Far off on the grounds, Professor Snape and Draco Malfoy were marching across the field.  They were heading for the castle.

            Harry saw that Malfoy and Snape were clutching the handles of a large wooden crate, and he exclaimed, "What are they carrying?"

            "We need to see Dumbledore immediately!"  said Ron. 

            "Over such a little thing?"  said Harry.

            "It might be a _big_ thing," insisted Ron.  "We _are_ talking about Snape."

            "You're right," said Harry.  He finally pried his eyes away from the figures outside, and they reported to Dumbledore with the news.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

            Dumbledore was sitting at the head of the table calmly sipping his tea when his thoughts were interrupted by two noisy Gryffindors.

            "It's Professor Snape!"  cried Harry.

            "In the courtyard!"  yelled Ron.

            "With a box!"  said Harry.

            Dumbledore murmured, "Professor Snape in the courtyard with a box.  Hmmm...  I may have missed something, for I have no idea what you're talking about."

            "We saw him outside," announced Harry.  "He was with Draco Malfoy, and they were carrying a large crate."

            "We don't know what's inside of it," said Ron, shaking his head in awe.

            "Do you think it has to do with Lord Voldemort?"  asked Harry.

            After a suspenseful pause, Dumbledore laughed.  "Oh, don't be silly.  You can relax.  That box has nothing to do with Voldemort.  Professor Snape and Malfoy just went to Hogsmeade this afternoon to buy some Potions ingredients.  I'm sure that's all you'd find in the box--simply ingredients for your Potions class."

            "Oh," said Harry, feeling embarrassed.

            Ron was still suspicious.  He said, "But maybe we should check it out, just in case."

            Dumbledore shook his head slowly.  "There's no need to go to those measures.  I trust Professor Snape."  'After all,' reasoned the Headmaster, 'it's been a very long time since he's done anything worth getting sent to Azkaban for.'

            Dumbledore sent the boys off with a wave of his hands and took another sip of tea.  Oh, drat.  It was cold now.  Where were those house-elves when you needed them?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

            Severus Snape and Draco Malfoy had already entered the castle, and they were now in Snape's office trying to find a cage for the Runespoor, Avril.

            Professor Snape quickly scanned the room.  "I think it's in there," he murmured as he advanced to a closet.

            He opened the rotting door and used the _wingardium__ leviosa_ incantation to bring out a bulky, glass aquarium.  Draco raised his eyebrows.  "Someone's going to notice that, professor," he said.

            "I'll just need to put more hexes on my lock then, won't I?"  said Snape.

            Draco nodded as Snape floated the aquarium onto the picnic table which he had cleared off earlier.

            Avril could be heard hissing from her cramped compartment.  "Don't worry," Snape crooned to her.  "We'll have you a nice new home very soon, sugar pie."

            Draco bit his tongue.  "Should I run down to Sprout's garden and get some dirt?"  he offered.

            Snape beamed at him.  "I was just going to tell you to do that.  Here's a bag.  Take all the dirt that can fit--er, that you can carry."  Draco narrowed his eyebrows.  He was strong for a little guy.  Besides, he wasn't little anymore; he was fifteen.

            Snape went on, "Also, bring me back some plants and stuff.  And insects.  We want Avril to feel at home.  She came all the way from Burkina Faso."

            "All right," said Draco and slipped away to Sprout's garden.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

            Dumbledore began the evening's feast without Snape and Malfoy.  'They'll be here any second,' thought the Headmaster, nervously smoothing out his beard.

……………………to be continued


	8. Nightly Wanderings

**Chapter Eight**

~~~~~~~~~

            Draco rushed back to the dungeons with two satchels over his shoulder.  He burst in on the sight of Snape sitting at the picnic table; Avril was playfully slithering around his neck.

            "What took you so long?"  asked Snape.

            "I ran into Peeves," explained Draco curtly.

            "When is Dumbledore going to get rid of that poltergeist?"  Snape muttered.  He jumped up off the bench and gestured toward the bags.  "Well, start pouring in the dirt.  We're already late for dinner."

            "Professor, why don't you do some of the work for once?"  said Draco.

            "I will," said Snape.  "Just as soon as you do what I tell you."

            Draco gave a huff and climbed on top of the picnic table.  There were about four inches of soil coating the bottom of the tank when he ran out of dirt.

            "That will suffice," said the professor.  He opened up the second bag, which held the plants.  "Now, run along to dinner.  Tell Dumbledore I'll be there in five minutes.  I want to finish putting the plants in."

            Draco gave a nod and left the room.  He stopped in a bathroom on the dungeon level and checked his reflection.  Hands--slightly caked with dirt.  Face--rosy from the cold winter air.  Hair--windswept and all over the place.  He dipped his hands under the faucet and started scrubbing.  Then he smoothed his hair back and hoped it would stay that way.  Honestly, how did girls manage it?  Their hair was five times as long as his!  No wonder Moaning Myrtle was always miserable.

            When Draco entered the Grand Hall for dinner, the mood was jovial.  Draco was annoyed at this.  'They started eating without me!'  he thought in dismay.

            Dumbledore caught his attention and gestured for him to come to his side.

            "Yes, sir?"  said Draco.

            "Is Professor Snape joining us tonight?"  inquired Dumbledore.

            "Yes.  He'll be here in about five minutes," answered Draco.

            "Good boy," said Dumbledore.  His blue eyes lingered upon the young Malfoy before saying, "Do you need a new wallet, by any chance?"

            Draco looked at him in confusion.  "I don't have a wallet."

            Dumbledore seemed surprised.  "What do you do, then?  Shove everything in your pockets like a common boy?  You're getting too old for that.  Now, run along and eat supper before it gets cold."

            Draco was beginning to think that Dumbledore _was_ going senile, after all.

            McGonagall giggled, murmuring under her breath, "Could you be any more obvious about it, Albus?"  which nobody heard except for Dumbledore.

            Draco walked the length of the whole dining table before finding a seat.  There were no spots left near Hermione, and he resented this.

            However, their eyes met as Draco passed her, and he flashed her a brief smile.  Immediately, Hermione's heart quickened, and she felt lighter than air.

            She began at once to speak elatedly to Ginny and Ron and Elizabeth and Harry.  She made sure that her bubbly voice was loud enough to carry over their heads and into the beautiful ears of Draco Malfoy.

            He wondered what on earth had got into Hermione, who was usually so reserved yet happy in her own intellectual way.  She was much too young to be going senile like Dumbledore...

            And then it suddenly occurred to him that Dumbledore might be his Secret Santa.  'Do you need a new wallet, by any chance?'  Oh, that silly old duffer!  Draco should've known that Dumbledore wouldn't be nice to him without a very good reason.

            Snape entered the dining hall now, and he sat at the end of the table near Dumbledore.  His shoulder-length black hair, which had been soft and attractive that morning, was back to its greasy self.  It needed more care than Snape had time for.

            He grunted "good evening" to Dumbledore and thrust a knife into his roasted duck without looking up at the rest of the staff.  Lupin was sitting next to McGonagall again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

            Afterward, Snape and Malfoy returned to the Potions office.  There were still many things left to cover.

            "Runespoors can grow up to six or seven feet," Snape informed him.  "This one's only three feet long right now, but in the future, she will need the extra room."

            Avril was exploring her new territory, winding in and out of branches in graceful circles.  She raised one of her heads and looked into Draco's face with her bright, golden eyes.

            "She looks hungry," Snape noted with concern.

            "We should give her a mouse," said Draco.

            "Good idea.  They're over there."

            "At the rate things are going, I'll learn more about Magical Creatures today than I did all last _year_ at Hagrid's hut," said Draco as he reached his hand into the mouse cage.

            After many tries, he grasped one of their long skinny tails.  Holding the mouse out at arm's length he brought it to Avril's aquarium and dangled it over the edge.

            "Do get on with it, Malfoy," commanded Snape.  The mouse curled away from the gigantic reptile and tried to climb up its own tail.

            "You'd let me know if it had a yen for human flesh, wouldn't you?"  said Draco, whose hand was hovering at the top of the aquarium.

            "Just _try_ to be gentle, Malfoy," said Snape.

            Draco simply dropped the mouse and yanked his hand away.  Avril's right head ripped into the mouse's throat with no hesitation.

            "There, you see?  That wasn't so bad," said Snape.  "Unlike most snakes--who lay eggs only when they are ready to hatch--the Runespoor lays several eggs once a week, like a chicken.  They spit them out, and then we can use them for potion making."

            Draco leaned his back against the table and crossed his arms.  "Is this going to count for extra-credit?"  he inquired.

            Snape simply glared at him.  "Do you want Slytherin to win the House Cup or _not_?"

            Draco looked at his professor and made up his mind.  "I want to win," he said.

            "Good.  Now I will tell you more about this beast, not for extra-credit, but to expand your general knowledge.  Runespoors were once adored by Dark wizards.  They kept them as pets.  In fact, legend has it that Salazar Slytherin himself owned one.

            "It's no accident that the Runespoor has three heads.  Each serves a different function.  Its left head is the critic; she evaluates everything that the right and middle heads do, and her fangs are extremely venomous."

            "_Now_ you tell me," said Draco quietly.

            "Its middle head is the dreamer.  This is why they often remain motionless for days at a time, sleeping like cats.  Its right head is the planner.  She decides all actions--where it goes, what it does.  She likes to scheme.  The left head, unfortunately, is very annoying at times, and Runespoors are known to be missing it quite often... The other heads band together to bite it off."

            Draco turned his head and peered at Avril.  "But why would they do that to themselves?"  he asked.  "It's like us cutting off a foot, or removing a part of our brains."

            Snape waved his hands.  "It's no great loss.  It doesn't kill them.  Nobody likes a critic, anyway."

            Draco inquired, "How do we know what goes on inside their heads?"

            "From the records of Parselmouths.  They conversed with them and gradually understood their peculiar habits."  Snape gave the Runespoor a sidelong glance.  "But you must be careful around them.  They're clever beasts.   They understand human language, though they cannot speak it.  And they needn't be loyal to Parselmouths.  If a Runespoor doesn't like an individual, it doesn't matter what House he's in or whether he speaks snake language or not.  The Runespoor will acquire an instant dislike to him, and there's nothing one can do about it.  On top of all that, the creature is highly independent."

            Snape broke off suddenly, his eyes fixed upon the opposite wall.  He could sense something on the other side--in the hall; it was moving toward the door.

            "What is it, professor?"  said Draco.

            "It's nothing," muttered Snape and shook off the feeling.  He hated it when that happened.  All these vibes, they gave him the heebie-jeebies.

            "I was about to say, we need mice food.  I remember seeing some in Sprout's office; she has a pet hamster," said Snape.  He stood up as if to leave, and Draco quickly went to the door and opened it for him.

            "No, Malfoy," Snape said sharply.  "Don't hold the door open so wide--"

            He sensed an unnatural presence glide into the room, and he strode toward the door.  He extended his arms, but the invisible thing moved just out of reach.  Snape was grasping wildly at the thin air; Draco stepped back in alarm.

            "Professor?"  he said numbly.  It seemed like everyone was going nutters today.

            Snape eyed him warily.  "Move along, Malfoy.  We must be quick about this."  And with that, they left for Sprout's office, Snape shutting the door behind him.

            Harry and Ron had backed away just in time, or else they would have been caught red-handed by their second worst enemy, Severus Snape.

            The boys had donned the Invisibility Cloak one last time in an attempt to discover the contents of Snape's mysterious box.  They had taken advantage of the one opportunity fate had given them--while Draco was holding the door open.

            However, Harry had forgotten that Snape was able to sense him underneath that magical shroud, and his brief spell of forgetfulness nearly ruined their plans.

            Fortunately for the two Gryffindors, Snape had not discovered Harry.  The professor and his assistant had left, closing the door behind them, and the boys were temporarily off the hook.

            Harry and Ron removed the Invisibility Cloak.

            "I hope they don't return too soon," Ron whispered.

            "Me, neither," whispered Harry.  "But we won't stay too long.  If we don't find it in five minutes, we'll leave."

            "Sounds like a good plan," whispered Ron.  Then he heard something that made the hair on his arms stand up.

            Ron could hear a sound emerging from the stillness.  He listened carefully; his senses were heightened in his anxious state.  "Harry, is it just me, or do you hear that hissing, too?"

            "It's not just you," said Harry.  "I think it's coming from over there.  Three of them."

            "Three snakes?"  asked Ron.

            "Yes," Harry said softly.  He turned on his wand light and looked around.

            Ron gasped, "It's a mutated monster!"

            The Runespoor was resting in a large aquarium directly in front of them.  Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to make her comfortable, for she had dirt and grubs, and plants and moss, and even some logs for hiding under.  It was a very large tank, and the creature seemed contented.  At least, it would seem contented to the impartial observer.  To Harry and Ron, who were sneaking around in a pitch-black office in the dungeons of an ancient castle, the snake was horrifying.

            Ron took a step backward, stumbling over a watering can.  "H-how many three-headed beasts are there in this world, for crying out loud?"

            "Shhh.  Calm down, or you'll scare it," Harry advised, staying motionless.

            The snake's left head began hissing.  "They're too stupid to be wizards," were the words that Harry heard.  "They called us a 'mutated monster.'  If they are wizards, then they must not be Slytherin."

            "For once, I agree with you," whispered the head on its right.  "Let's play a game with them.  The boy with the glasses is a Parselmouth.  He can understand everything we're saying."

            "Is that so?"  said the Left.  "Boy, what is your name?"

            "Harry," replied the Gryffindor in Parseltongue.  "What's yours?"

            "Diana," hissed the Right.

            "Celeste," the Left replied.

            The middle head raised herself from a pile of leaves in a groggy fashion.  "And I am Marie," she said lazily.  "You've woken me from my nap.  I was having a lovely dream, simply splendid--it was delightful."  She closed her golden eyes and drifted back to sleep.

            Harry asked, "Do you know Severus Snape and Draco Malfoy?"

            "Know them?"  hissed Diana.  "We hardly know them.  We just met today."

            "And it's a good thing that we met Sssssseverus," said Celeste.  "If it weren't for him, we would never have returned to the home of our ancestor, the beautiful Helen Rowena Wades-in-Water."

            "Who was this Helen Rowena Wades-in-Water?"  inquired Harry.  "Did she live here at Hogwarts?"

            "Of course!"  Diana hissed.  "She was the cherished companion of Salazar Slytherin."

            A chill swept over Harry's skin, and he noticeably flinched.  Salazar Slytherin--one of the four founders of Hogwarts, he was the hateful wizard who created the Chamber of Secrets!

            Ron tapped him on the shoulder and said, "Harry, I reckon I should be going now."

            "No, Ron," pleaded Harry.  "You've got to stay.  She just said that they're descended from the snake that belonged to Salazar Slytherin!"

            "Harry!  We have to get out of here!"  Ron exclaimed in a hushed whisper.

            Harry restrained his friend by grabbing his biceps.  "No, we don't.  Everything is under control.  We just need to know why Malfoy and Snape are hiding her," he whispered.

            Much to Ron's chagrin, Harry turned back to the Runespoor.  He was, however, slightly more intimidated by her than he'd been in the beginning.

            Diana cocked her head playfully.  The light from Harry's wand reflected off of her orange and black scales, giving them a jeweled appearance.  "Well, what do you like to read?"  asked Diana.

            "P-pardon?"  Harry stammered in Parseltongue.  'Wow,' he thought.  'I didn't even know that snakes had a word for "pardon." '

            Diana bared her white fangs in what she meant as a smile.  "Do you like to read?"  she repeated.

            "Yes, I suppose so.  I like reading about Quidditch, mainly," said Harry.  What was this crazy snake on about?  One thing was for certain:  as soon as Harry left, he was going to tell Dumbledore all about this odd creature.

            Celeste was hissing, "Reading is very important, young boy.  If you read more about our kind, you would discover that we reproduce asexually.  That is why we have three heads right now.  We're in the process of dividing."

            "Really?"  said Harry, who was soaking up all this nonsense as if it were the gospel truth.

            "Certainly," hissed Diana.  "Our species must be preserved and hidden from Muggles, or else they'll try to study us for their silly cloning experimentsssss."

            "And that is why Dumbledore is hiding us here," concluded Celeste.

            "Dumbledore already knows you're here?"  said Harry.

            "Yes, and he must keep us secret from all of you meddling students," said Celeste.

            "Oh," said Harry, feeling a bit disappointed.  He always enjoyed unraveling mysteries, only to find out later that Dumbledore had suspected the truth all along.

            "What did it say?"  hissed Ron.

            Harry rolled his eyes in impatience.  "I'll tell you later."  He kept talking to the Runespoor in Parseltongue.  "Ssso, why does Malfoy get to know about you?  If we're all meddling students, then--"

            Diana interrupted with a lash of her tongue, "Unlike some boys and girls we have seen, Malfoy is not the type who speaks before he thinks.  Nor does he play silly pranks with invisibility cloaks."

            Celeste nodded.  "If he _did_ have such a fine cloak, he wouldn't parade it in front of the whole school.  He would probably keep it hidden, for he's a quiet boy from what we've seen of him."

            Harry muttered loudly in English, "Quiet my foot!  He'd probably go around showing it off!"

            Ron jumped back.  "Harry, do be quiet!  Someone's going to hear us."

            "Oh, right."  Harry suddenly remembered Snape and Malfoy.  "Maybe we should leave now."

            "Gee, you think?"  said Ron sarcastically.

            Harry looked around desperately for their cloak, pointing his feeble wand light into the dark corners of Snape's office.  He saw the shroud resting on top of a box, and he hastily tugged at a corner that was dangling in front of him.  Within seconds, Ron and Harry had covered themselves with the magical garment.

            The Runespoor started hissing again, "Remember, Harry, there is a curse upon anyone who dares speak of us!"

            Harry rolled his eyes.  This snake was beginning to sound like Professor Trelawney.   Curses--what utter hogwash!  She was just trying to scare them.

            Ron spoke up, "Um, Harry, what did it--"

            "I'll tell you later!  Let's get out of here!"  Harry silenced him.  The two boys then clumsily made their way out of the office and up the stairs.

            Harry was glad that the caretaker Filch was away from the castle, or else the boys would also have to evade him and his cat Mrs. Norris.  Harry swore that Mrs. Norris was no ordinary cat; she seemed to have some telepathic connection with Filch and would always summon him to the scene of crime whenever the Gryffindors were up to something.

            Thankfully, the caretaker Filch and his cat were nowhere on the grounds that evening, and Harry and Ron made it back to the Gryffindor dormitory without any problems.

            The Fat Lady allowed them inside the common room and drifted off to sleep again.

            "Harry--"  Ron began to say as soon as they had entered.

            "Shh.  Do you want Hermione to hear you?"  Harry reprimanded.  If Ginny saw them, it would be fine.  She was used to her brothers making trouble.  Hermione, on the other hand, was the strict enforcer of rules in Gryffindor and would probably bitch at them until she was blue in the face.

            Ron sighed.  Why was he getting yelled at tonight?  Maybe he ought to stop hanging out with Harry so much.

            After stealing up to their dorm room, Ron inquired, "Harry, are you PMS-ing?"

            "What?"  Harry's face contorted with annoyance.

            "You heard me.  Are you taking strange female hormone supplements?"  Ron demanded, aggressively fluffing up his pillow.

            Harry laughed.  "No, I just got freaked out by that thing down in Snape's office."

            "Yeah, about that.  We _are_ going to tell Dumbledore about it, aren't we?"

            "I don't know.  According to what she said, Dumbledore already knows about her," said Harry.

            "Her?  Who's her?"  asked Ron.

            "The snake.  Her name is Diana Marie Celeste," said Harry.  He took off his glasses and pulled back the covers on his bed.

            Ron was confused by Harry's laid-back attitude.  "Diana Marie Celeste?  Is that the name Snape gave her?  What a fruit cake."

            "I don't know.  I can't remember.  Would Snape actually give each of her heads a different name?"  Harry asked.

            "Well, Hagrid had a three-headed dog, and he only had one name—Fluffy," stated Ron.

            "Yeah, that's right," Harry recalled.  "Anyway, Diana and Celeste were talking to me, and they said that they reproduce asexually.  That's why the Muggles are out to get them, because they want to use 'em in cloning experiments."

            "Really…"  Ron drawled, staring at his friend with disbelief.

            Harry nodded.  "And Dumbledore is supposedly keeping her hidden here."

            "So Snape isn't doing anything wrong?"  asked a disappointed Ron.

            "I'm afraid not," said Harry.

            "But, what if it's trying to trick us?"  asked Ron uncertainly.

            Harry thought about it.  "It's just a snake; it's not clever enough to be deceitful."

            "Well, if you say so," said Ron.

            "I think, for now, it's better just to keep quiet about this," added Harry.  "We don't want to get in trouble for breaking into Snape's office if he hasn't done anything wrong."

            "Well, technically, we didn't 'break into' anything," said Ron.

            "But we used the Invisibility Cloak," said Harry.

            "Yeah.  That is true," said Ron.  "So, no snitching?"

            "No snitching.  At least, not for now," said Harry.

            Having agreed on this, the two boys went to bed and desperately hoped that their dreams wouldn't be filled with Snape doing kinky things with three-headed snakes.

…………………to be continued


	9. Intermission

**Chapter Nine**

~~~~~~~

            We now interrupt this programming with a visit to Malfoy Manor.  Why?  Because we can.  We are the ubiquitous, omniscient forces at work behind this story.  And since we are about to enter the home of a very important villain, the editors apologize ahead of time for any sadistic, capitalistic, or derogatory situation which may offend the reader.

            Narcissa Malfoy was in the study, attending to her correspondence.  Her husband Lucius entered the room and lightly kissed the top of her head.

            "Hello, darling," crooned Narcissa.

            "Hello, my dear," said Lucius.  "What are you writing?"

            "A letter to Draco.  I want him to come home," said Narcissa.  "He must be so lonely over there, with none of his Slytherin friends.  I think I'll tempt him with a batch of anise flavored biscuits, with glazing on the top."

            "That sounds delicious.  I want some," said Lucius.  His wife was an excellent baker.  She had a sweet tooth and enjoyed baking rich, sugary desserts--leaving all the regular cooking to the house-elves.

            "Perhaps," murmured Narcissa, signing her name with a flourish.

            "We're having a Death Eater meeting in the drawing room this evening," said Lucius.  "It would've pleased me to have Draco with us."

            "He always listens in.  What difference does one meeting make?"

            "We're currently planning our next recruitment strategy," said Lucius, trying to stress the importance of this measure.

            Narcissa waved a hand.  "You silly men, with your silly secret clubs.  The problem with recruitment is that you keep everything male-dominated.  I know lots of girls who would love to become Death Eaters, but you won't allow them to."

            "Like who?"

            "Like me," said Narcissa.

            Lucius told her for the umpteenth time, "Narcissa, I know you're very ambitious.  But I don't think women should be allowed to become Death Eaters anymore.  Just look at what happened to poor Mrs. Lestrange.  Do you want to end up like her?  You help out in your own way, and you're much safer because of it."

            Narcissa sighed.  "I know.  But what about unmarried women?  You would have a larger pool of people to choose from if you allowed them to apply; you'd get the cream of the crop."

            "Some women can't be trusted.  You know how they like to gossip," said Lucius.

            "You silly men," repeated Narcissa.  "I bet you all just sit around and drink beer and complain about nonsense, and watch Quidditch matches on the Spell-Binder."

            Lucius gave a start.  Was she spying on them?

            Narcissa continued, "I'm going to start a club, too.  It's going to be an all-female club."

            "Is that so?"  said her husband.

            Narcissa smiled.  She said perkily, "Yes.  I'll think of an _original_ name for it--none of this 'eating dead stuff' business.  We could be the Singing Sirens.  Or the Association of Secular Sisters."

            "Um, darling?  Don't yell at me, but that spells 'ass,'" Lucius informed her.

            "Oh," Narcissa tossed her head, thinking up a new name.  "Just add another 'S' to the beginning and make it SASS.  The Secret Association of Secular Sisters.  It has a nice ring to it," she said proudly.

            "It has a lot of alliteration; I'll say that for it," said Lucius.

            "I'm glad you like it."  She grinned.  "When I finally have my SASS club, we're going to do some major evil, you mark my words.  Evil with a capital E."

            Narcissa stood up and pushed her chair in.  Her letter to Draco was finished, and she was about to mail it.  Entwining her fingers with her husband's, Narcissa locked eyes with Lucius and played the part of the innocent lamb.  She was quite good at this role by now, and Lucius had no objections.  She then stood on the tips of her toes and gave him a pleasant kiss on the lips.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

            Snape had trouble falling asleep that night.  He punched his pillow some more to fluff it up.  He listened for sounds of the Runespoor rustling through the leaves, but all was silent, so he assumed that she was sleeping.

            He'd tried reading one of his well-worn mystery novels, but it had failed to make him sleepy.  The copy of What Mrs. McGillicuddy Saw was now lying on the dusty floor, and there was a blank space in his bookcase where the Agatha Christies were kept.  The remaining novels seemed to be pining away for the missing volume that Snape had tossed so carelessly onto the ground.  But maybe that was just in his imagination, for books didn't see or feel.  They simply existed--for his literary pleasure.

            Hmmm.  He knew that he should get some sleep when crazy thoughts such as these kept entertaining him.

            'Damn it,' he thought.  He began talking to himself.  "Stupid werewolf has to come back here and take away my woman.  Okay, so she was never my woman.  But she was single!  Damn that Lupin!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

            Remus Lupin awoke with a start.  Minerva's arm was draped across his chest, and they were lying in bed.  It was warm in her chambers, but not too warm.  What had caused his sleep to be so rudely interrupted?  Was it a dream?  Remus tried to remember.  No, he had no idea what he'd been dreaming just moments before, but he was sure it hadn't been anything nightmarish.

            Oh, well.  Minerva's low, gentle snoring was reassuring to him, and he let his body relax once more.

            He was glad that Minerva didn't think of him as an outsider.  She seemed to forget that he was a werewolf.  Most people in the wizarding world avoided him once they realized the truth.  They were unsympathetic, afraid, and ignorant.  He didn't fully understand this as a young boy.  When he was ten, he only knew that he was being singled out.

            Remus had feared that he would never be able to attend Hogwarts.  But the Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, was far more compassionate and open-minded than his peers.  He let Remus attend the school, and the young man has been grateful to Dumbledore to this day, for it was at Hogwarts that he finally made many good friends.  His closest companions were Sirius Black, Peter Pettigrew, and James Potter--Harry's father.

            Those seven years were the best years of Remus's life.  However, they were not to last.  His life and the lives of his friends came crashing down when Lord Voldemort rose to power.  In the Dark Lord's haste to dominate the world, he slayed hundreds of people who stood in his way.

            Among the dead were James Potter and his wife Lily.  Then, it appeared that Sirius Black had betrayed them to Lord Voldemort and murdered Peter.

            And in the blink of an eye, Lupin's friends were gone.  They had been destroyed by someone they thought they could trust--someone who had been a spy right under their noses.

Years later, after the Dark Lord lost his power and went into hiding, Dumbledore was in need of a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.  He asked Lupin, who gladly took the job.

            You see, in the time period following Lupin's schooldays, a treatment had been invented for werewolves.  It allowed the patient to keep his rational mind while his body transformed.  It was because of this new treatment that Lupin could teach at Hogwarts without being a threat to the students or staff.  (As a boy, he had to spend the three nights of the full moon in a shack somewhere off the grounds of Hogwarts.)  Severus Snape would brew up this Wolfsbane Potion for Lupin to drink.  He only did so because Dumbledore ordered him.  Snape had disliked Lupin and his friends ever since they went to school together, and he secretly hoped that one of the students would discover Lupin's identity as a werewolf and reveal him for what he was.

            'But I didn't need Snape to look bad, did I?'  Remus thought wearily.  'I just _had_ to forget my Wolfsbane potion that morning, _didn't_ I?'

            He could still be teaching at Hogwarts today, but he didn't want another accident like the one he had a year and a half ago.  Nobody was hurt; luckily, Sirius was there to restrain him.

            Everything was crazy about that night, though.  Looking back on it, Remus wasn't very surprised that nothing went as planned.  After all, history was picked up and turned inside out that night.  Remus had just discovered that Sirius was innocent while prisoner in Azkaban for twelve years.  Meanwhile, Peter--the real traitor--was living a peaceful life as a family pet.  He was Ron's rat, for crying out loud.  And all this time, he was letting somebody else pay for his crimes.

            Remus turned over in bed, careful not to wake Minerva.  She made a quiet moaning sound, and he stroked her hand.  Perhaps she was sensing his unsettled mind.  He kept stroking her hand, for he felt that would help him calm down.

            Remus Lupin was tired of everything.  He was especially tired of the way witches and wizards treated him.  Yeah, like it was _his_ fault he got bitten by a werewolf when he was six years old.  Let's all blame the victim.  Let's all get together and throw stones from glass houses.

            Lupin gave up trying to find a life in the magical world after he resigned from Hogwarts.  It was too hard to blend in.  He soon discovered that Muggles didn't care if he missed a couple days of work a month.  Oh, sure, they were non-too-pleased about it, but at least they didn't suspect him of being a werewolf.

            But, perhaps he could work here at Hogwarts again...  Lupin's heart leapt at the prospect.  If only--if only he could be sure of himself...  He gave a sigh.  He was happy with his current job, but Defense Against the Dark Arts was his real passion in life.  And he wanted to be with Minerva.  Not just on the weekends, but everyday.  She was one of those people who never failed to surprise him.  And she was such a good woman--a caring teacher, a loyal friend, and a passionate lover.

            'I wonder what will happen,' he thought.  He had developed a certain kind of optimism over the years.  He bore whatever life gave him.  He toughed it out because he knew from experience that good things always follow the bad, and he didn't want to miss any of those good things.

~~~~~~~

**I****N****T****E****R****M****I****S****S****O****N******

While the reader takes a break to get a bite to eat and use the lavatory, an orchestra begins playing, and we are transported to a radiant, tropical island.  A male voice begins singing the lyrics from an old musical:

"Carefully Taught" 

"You've got to be taught

To hate and fear,

You've got to be taught

From year to year,

It's got to be drummed

In your dear little ear

You've got to be carefully taught.

"You've got to be taught to be afraid

Of people whose eyes are oddly made,

And people whose skin is a diff'rent shade,

You've got to be carefully taught.

"You've got to be taught before it's too late,

Before you are six or seven or eight,

To hate all the people your relatives hate,

You've got to be carefully taught!"

---South Pacific, Rodgers and Hammerstein

The music fades away, and the setting sun slips beneath the waves--far out on the horizon.  As the clouds take on a warm reddish hue, we slowly return to our senses and realize that nobody bursts out into random song in real life, but it sure is fun in musicals.  The reader finds his place in the manuscript and continues to read.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

            The next morning was quite beautiful.  It was sunny, and the clouds were gone, and there was a freshness in the air that no one had felt in a long time.

            Hermione was standing in the girls' bathroom pondering her strange relationship with Draco Malfoy.

            'But maybe it _could_ work--just maybe...  Oh, no, it wouldn't work at all.  But what if it _could_?'  thought Hermione as she looked in the mirror, trying to arrange her fluffy hair into an elegant frame for her face.

            If only love were like Arithmancy, with a definite set of formulas and a definite answer.  And a foolproof process for arriving at that answer.  Yes.  If only love could be more structured, and one could derive the correct set of actions from the square root of A and the logarithm of B!

            'But that would take all the fun out of it,' thought the girl.  'If only _I_ could be less structured, and more like Ron and Harry!  They don't seem to think about things too much.  Just go with the flow of things--like a speck of foam upon the ocean.  Maybe it could work...'

            Hermione opened her toiletry bag and brought out her toothbrush and toothpaste.  She was in the habit of brushing her teeth at least twice a day; her smile was one of her most charming attributes.

            After rinsing out her mouth, Hermione began daydreaming about a future encounter with Draco, acting it out with subtle body language in front of the mirror.

            "Hello, Draco," she said in her sultriest voice, with an instinctive lift of her eyebrow.  'Oh, wow!  That looks good!'  she thought.

            "So, did you sleep well last night?"  she asked her Imaginary Draco.

            "How could I, with you keeping me up all night long, my little fireball?"  she said in a deeper voice, glaring provocatively at her reflection.  Imaginary conversations were always fun!

            "Oh, you're too much," she chastised Imaginary Draco.  "I wouldn't be a little fireball if it weren't for you, and your perfect body, and your strong neck muscles."

            Hermione paused a moment, and then she reached out a hand to stroke the curvature of the sink, pretending it was Draco's waist.

            Imaginary Draco said, "Go on."

            Hermione smiled and tilted her head.  "Why should I?"  she asked.

            "Because I told you to," said Imaginary Draco.

            Hermione was intrigued.  "So now you're playing the _dominant_ one?"

            "I _am_ the dominant one."

            "_Oh_."  Hermione giggled softly.  "A girl could get used to this."

            Just then, the door to the bathroom opened, and in came Ginny.

            "Oh, hi--Ginny!"  exclaimed a startled Hermione.  Oh, dear.  Ginny must think she's weird now, smiling and talking to herself in front of a mirror.

            "Good morning, Mionny," said Ginny, smiling warily.

            'She thinks I'm weird now!'  thought Hermione.  'She must think I talk to myself whenever I'm alone!'

            "It's such a beautiful day," said Hermione brightly, trying to sound as perky as could be.  "I was just brushing my teeth."

            Ginny said, "Oh," and headed straight for a stall.  Hermione gathered her belongings and quickly made her exit.

            She was now standing in the middle of the girls' dormitory.  She tossed her grooming supplies onto the bed, rushed over to her wardrobe, and threw the doors open.  Her critical eyes darted back and forth, examining the selection of clothes before her.  What to wear, what to wear?  It mattered more today than ever, since she now wanted to impress Draco.  She must look fetching, but not as if she were _trying_ to look fetching.  She must be natural.  But not as if she were _trying_ to be natural.  She must simply _be_.

            After much consideration, Hermione picked out an outfit and got dressed.  She wondered where Ginny was, and then she heard the sound of running water and assumed her friend was taking a shower.

            Hermione had a few minutes to spare before joining Harry and Ron for breakfast.  She took this time to figure out how she would treat the tender subject of Draco Malfoy.

            She could tell Ron and Harry her true feelings, of course, and witness their indignation.

            Or she could say nothing.  Or lie--and tell them her infatuation had been brief, and now she could see clearly again.

            She thought the last option would work the best.

            She had a brief panic attack just then and wondered, 'Why in the world am I lusting after Draco Malfoy?  His father is a bastard, and his mother is a snob, and Draco is the direct result of their unchecked breeding!'

            Then she remembered.  Draco had apologized for everything he'd ever said or done to her.  It had been a heartfelt apology, and Hermione had forgiven him.  The simple act of forgiveness was not beyond Hermione.  She was a nice girl.  She did not carry grudges as _some people did—like badges of war.  She was above all that._

            And the fact that she was lusting after Draco now—why, she deserved to let loose once in a while!  She had focused all her energies on academia, helping the unfortunate, and resolving arguments between Ron and Harry.  Why, it was time for _her desires to be gratified for a change!_

            And Hermione could think of nothing that could gratify them better than another encounter with Draco Malfoy.  There was something deep inside of her that was awakened when he first kissed her.  She longed to experience that feeling again—that blessed peace of mind in which everything seemed all right.  She must feel that again!  She had never felt it with anybody else except for Draco, which was strange.  Nevertheless, it had to mean something!  Feelings did not arise in one's soul unless they had a purpose!

………………..to be continued


	10. The Cheese Danish Incident

**Chapter Ten**

~~~~~~~

            Hermione took a deep breath and resolved to shake off her nervous sensations.  'There's no reason for me to be afraid of Ron and Harry,' she thought.  'They're my friends.'

            Nevertheless, the sight of those two boys arrived all too soon for Hermione.  They were sitting on the floor, apparently waiting for the girls, when she entered the common room.

            Harry noticed Hermione first and saluted her with enthusiasm.  Upon hearing this, Ron turned his head sharply and said, "Good morning."

            "Hi, Ron.  Hi, Harry," Hermione replied cheerfully.

            "Are you done fraternizing with the enemy?"  inquired Ron.

            "What?  What do you mean?  Oh, you're talking about Draco," said Hermione nonchalantly.

            "How did you guess?"

            "Who else would you be talking about?  And no, I'm not in love with him."

            Harry said, "Well, that's good."

            Ron asked, "Are you in _like_ with him?"

            Hermione said, "As silly as that question is, I fear I will have to answer it for you.  No, I am not in like with Draco Malfoy.  He's a silly little boy.  I've seen the error of my ways.  No longer will I go for moonlit walks at night with him."

            Ron started.  "What?  I can't believe you did that!  You could've been killed!"

            Hermione lifted her eyes heavenward.  Her face took on a more angelic hue as she spoke, "But I wasn't killed.  I was spared from that dreadful, dreadful fate.  And now I shall spend the rest of my days warning other girls to stay away from bad men as well."

            Harry stated, "Hermione, I do believe you're being sarcastic."

            "Oh, no.  I'm not.  I've just been reading too many novels.  I pick up on the speech patterns after a while."

            Ron and Harry nodded.  It was true; after reading a new book, Hermione was known to use many new and multi-syllabic words.  Oftentimes the boys would simply nod and smile instead of asking her what a word meant.  It was easier that way.__

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

            As was the custom on all Monday mornings, breakfast was served buffet style in the Hogwarts dining hall.  The foodstuffs were laid out on a long narrow table, and everybody lined up to fill their plates.  There were buttery croissants and blueberry muffins, milk, pumpkin juice, tea and coffee, french toast, bacon, ham, and muffins with marmalade jam.  There were also danishes, smoked salmon, cream cheese and bagels, and some boxes of Lucky Charms cereal.

            One by one, the diners left the buffet table, their plates holding more than their stomachs could possibly contain (except for Hagrid.)  Hermione was still in line, and she was looking forward to one of those delicious cheese danishes--they was her favorite food on Monday mornings.  She looked over Draco's shoulder to see how many were left.

            Remaining on the platter were two lonely danishes, surrounded by the crumbs of those who had gone before them.

            Hagrid suddenly took one, and not a second later, Draco had the other in his palm.

            "Oh, dear," murmured Hermione to Ginny.  "All the cheese danishes are gone."

            Ginny patted her on the back and said, "Oh, you poor thing."

            "Here, Hermione.  You can have mine," said Draco.  He looked at the girl very sweetly and laid the pastry on her dish.

            Hermione glanced up at him and blushed in surprise.  "Thank you."

            "No problem," said Draco.

            After the boy had left the buffet table, Ginny whispered to Hermione, "He likes you.  I can tell, he really likes you."

            Hermione smiled shyly.

            Ginny said, "For a Malfoy to give up the last cheese danish--that's more than friendship, Hermione.  You should ask him out."

            Hermione exclaimed in a hushed whisper, "I couldn't do that!"

            Nodding her head, Ginny said matter-of-factly, "You're right.  It's better just to play hard-to-get right now."

            "Did you hear that, Ron?"  whispered Harry.  "Hermione's playing hard-to-get right now."

            "Is _that_ why she's been so distant lately?"  Ron wondered aloud.

            "Maybe," whispered Harry.

            "It _must_ be," replied Ron.  "That's why she's been acting so strangely--she's trying to play hard-to-get!  She wants me to ask her out!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

            After the buffet, all eleven students were seated Indian style on the floor with their eyes closed and hands resting upon their knees.  Remus Lupin had told them that this was Mook Sahang, or meditation.  "It can also help you with your wizarding courses," he said.  The fourth degree black belt and former Defense Against the Dark Arts Teacher was sitting in front of the students, a mirror image of their monk-like pose.

            McGonagall had refused to be part of this 'Mook Sahang.'  She stood quietly off to the side and tried not to laugh, but she had to smile at the sight of a meditating Draco Malfoy.

            Lupin instructed them, "Take long, deep breaths, and remember to keep your spine straight.  Don't puff out your chest; breathe in with your abdomen.  You should feel your diaphragm expanding with air.  Focus on your breathing and clear your mind-"

            Hermione raised her hand and said, "Um, Professor Lupin?  How can we fill our diaphragm with air if it's below our lungs?"

            Lupin sighed.  "I don't know, but it works.  Just trust me on this.  Now close your eyes again and meditate.  Your breathing should be deep and rhythmic."

            The students did so, and the strange breathing made them feel lightheaded.  Even Hermione was more relaxed.  Draco, on the other hand, didn't notice much of a difference, probably because of the larghe vedute serum he took that morning.

            Afterwards came the stretching.  Luckily, wizard's clothing is loose and flowing, and the students were able to move freely.  That is to say, they would have been able to move freely--if they had been more flexible.  As it turned out, Ginny was the only one who could touch her fingers to her toes.

            Lupin leapt to his feet and said, "Okay, everyone stand up."

            "Are we going to do self-defense?"  asked Marvin.

            "Perhaps," said Lupin.  "But first, I'm going to cover all the basics, including the things that we don't tell our own students.  For example, when they pay for their trial lessons and get their free uniforms, and after we've convinced them that they have such _marvelous_ potential, we get them to sign a one-year contract and _completely_ forget to tell them about the extra fees--like belt testing and sparring gear.

            "But you don't have to worry about that.  You go to Hogwarts.  Nice academy.  Although, I'm not too sure about your present Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor.  He could be replaced.  Just my own opinion, you know."  He gave a smirk, and then got back on course.  "But before we start our lesson, we need to get our blood pumping and wake you people up.  You all look like you just rolled out of bed."

            And with that, Lupin made them do forty jumping jacks, twenty front rising kicks--ten on each side, twenty crescent kicks, and ten push-ups.

            The students were exhausted after this warm up, so Lupin gave them permission to take a five-minute water break.

            "Only five minutes?"  Jessup lamented.

            "Five minutes is very generous for a water break," Lupin said firmly, and Jessup hurried off to reserve his place in line at the water fountain.

            And once again that day, the students found themselves waiting in line.  They passed the time by gossiping.

            Hermione said to Harry and Ron, "You know what?  McGonagall looks happier lately."

            "Yeah," said Harry.  "I think it's because of Lupin."

            "Yeah.  Definitely Lupin," said Ron, his voice filled with meaning.

            "Oh," said Hermione, finally coming to a realization about the teachers' relationship.  "Wouldn't it be nice if there was a way for him to teach here again?"

            "And have a decent Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor?"  said Harry.

            "And it would make McGonagall so happy," said Hermione.

            "Not to mention Lupin," said Ron.  "Poor bloke.  He needs a woman."

            "That's what I'm talking about.  We've got to find a way for Lupin to come back next year--and teach!"  said Hermione quietly, so that their professors wouldn't hear them.  She was loud enough, however, to be overheard by Draco Malfoy.  He continued listening with interest.

………………to be continued


	11. Another Martial Arts Lesson

**Chapter Eleven**

~~~~~~~

            Draco was happy to see Hermione.  He still didn't know why he liked her.  He reckoned that love was just another of life's many mysteries which would never be solved.

            But there _was_ still that part of him that despised Hermione's bossiness.  Also, he couldn't quite shake off his prejudice toward Muggles.  And who could blame him?  They were undignified and dirty, and they waged all kinds of wars.  Mind you, these wars were not on the same par as noble wizarding duels; these Muggle wars were dirty, blood-letting, mutual slaughters.

            Besides the whole war thing, Muggles had a tendency to forget their ancient history whenever something new came along.  After the Greek scholar Eratosthenes had generously taken the time to measure the circumference of Earth, the people of Medieval Europe spent a whole millennium believing that the world was flat.

            'Yes,' Draco thought.  'Muggles are the stupidest creatures on earth.  But Hermione is smarter than most, and she's pretty, and she makes me feel alive, and my father would be really angry if he ever found out.'

            It wasn't that Draco resented his father--he liked him very much, in fact.  It was just the forbidden factor of the relationship with Hermione that was so appealing.  I'm sure you understand, reader.

            The line had dwindled down, and Draco approached the fountain.  The cold water running down his throat felt so much more gratifying after a hard workout.  His body was alive now, invigorated, and relieved of stress.  This was how he felt after Quidditch practices.

            Draco wiped the sleeve of his shirt across his mouth and stepped away from the water fountain.  He decided it would be a bad idea to tell the girls about the larghe vedute serum right now.  In fact, he may never tell them.  They seemed friendly with him at the moment, and he didn't want to risk anything by telling the truth.  He didn't know about Ginny, but he knew for sure that Hermione would kill him for giving her a potion without her knowledge or consent--especially a potion that allowed her to like her mortal enemy.

            Draco calmly stepped out of the dining hall and joined the others, giving Remus Lupin a respectful nod.

            Ron and Harry stumbled back onto the veranda, Harry in slightly better shape than Ron because of his Quidditch training.  Ron gasped, "I can't go on!"

            "Yes, you can," said Harry.

            "No, I can't," wheezed Ron, clutching a stitch in his side.  He reached for his wand.

            Lupin said warningly, "And don't think about casting any endurance spells.  This is going to be a totally non-magic lesson.  If anybody uses a stamina charm, they will not be allowed to participate in tae kwon do for the rest of the week."

            McGonagall nodded whole-heartedly and gave the students a stern look.  Ron put his wand back immediately.

            When all the students had returned, Lupin said to them, "I never realized how sedentary a wizard's life was.  They should give you kids some physical education.  That's what they have at those Muggle schools, anyway."

            "What's physical education?"  asked Jessup.

            "You play games, like dodgeball and football," answered Lupin.

            "But they don't have Quidditch," said Harry.  Quidditch was the only sport that Harry was any good at.

            "No, no they don't," admitted Lupin.  "They don't teach martial arts at public school, either.  It might be a good thing if they did, though.  There's too much competition among high school athletes these days.  Tae kwon do does have some elements of competition, but the thing to keep in mind is not to beat your opponent, but to have respect for him--or her--and to constantly learn from each other.  Everyone in tae kwon do is friendly with each other, no matter what differences we have outside of class.  Respect is a fundamental part of the sport.

            "Now that I've said all that, I'm going to show you some ways to fake out your opponent and take him down.  I saw _this_ one at a major tournament a few years back; a friend of mine used it."  Lupin got into a fighting stance, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet.

            "You just pretend that you're about to throw a spinning kick, but instead of doing the kick, you turn about very quickly and come back to your original stance--"  He demonstrated this, and then said, "This will draw your opponent in--he comes in to attack, and then you throw a real spinning kick to the head when he's least expecting it."  He then whipped around and aimed his foot at an imaginary target.

            Hermione gasped.  "You kick people in the head, Professor Lupin?"

            "They're wearing helmets," he said, hoping that would make it sound better.  "Although, at this particular tournament, his opponent was almost knocked out, and... that was the end of the round.  But it was a legal kick, so he was not disqualified.  So, yes, it can be violent... but no less violent than a lot of Quidditch matches."

            Marvin asked enthusiastically, "Can you punch them in the face?"

            "Um, no," said Lupin.  "I mean, you can do that if someone is trying to mug you on the Underground, but in a tournament, that would earn you a deduction.  Not a good thing.  We do practice punching to the face in other drills, like one-step sparring and self-defense--like we did yesterday."

            Marvin was still intrigued by the idea of physical combat.  "So it's not like boxing?"

            "No."

            "That's no fun," the boy complained.

            Lupin laughed.  "Tae kwon do is not about knocking people unconscious.  At least, not in tournaments.  Although, you could slip it in if the judge is looking the other way.  You know, a well-placed upper cut to the jaw..."

            And with that, Remus Lupin went up another notch in Draco's book.

            "But you didn't hear me say that," said Lupin.  He noticed that Draco Malfoy was looking at him with something resembling respect, and this worried him.  He said to the students, "You look well rested now.  Let's do some kicking drills.  Professor McGonagall, could you hold this target for them?"  Lupin had selected a padded target in the shape of a racquetball paddle, and he held it out to her.

            McGonagall shied away from him.  "Why do _I_ have to hold it?"  she asked.

            "Because you're my assistant," replied Lupin.

            McGonagall narrowed her eyes suspiciously at the students.  "Well, what if they kick me?"

            "Um, Madame Pomfrey's around here somewhere," said Lupin, peering into the castle.

            "What?"

            "I said, -- they're good.  And -- they're not going to kick you," said Lupin unconvincingly.

            McGonagall scoffed, smirking at him in disbelief.  "If you think I'm going to do this, you better think again."

            Lupin pleaded with her, "But Minny, you haven't done anything all morning.  All you've done is stand there."

            "And your point would be...?"

            "Here, just take it.  Do I have to give you the Roman goddess of warfare speech again?"  asked Lupin.

            McGonagall giggled and scurried away.  "I'm not the goddess of war!  Stop it!"  She looked back and saw that Lupin was following her.  She yelped and ran faster.

            Lupin ended up chasing her around the picnic table.  "Really!"  he shouted.  "It's not that big of a deal.  You're such a wimp, Minny."

            McGonagall said nothing.  She was still fleeing from the fourth degree black belt, as he was still intent on leaving her to the mercy of eleven uncoordinated witches and wizards.

            Jessup nudged Harry and said, "Oh, look at them.  They're so cute together."

            Harry chortled.  He repeated this to Ron, who immediately burst out laughing.  Meanwhile, Lupin kept chasing McGonagall around the veranda.

            Jessup was so pleased with his successful joke that he decided to repeat it.  "Oh, you two make a cute couple," he exclaimed.

            "Oh, no," McGonagall laughed.  She and Lupin stopped to catch their breath, McGonagall leaning over the porch railing and Lupin sitting down at the picnic table.

            "You do!  You make a good couple!" said Ginny.

            Lupin looked like he wanted to crawl underneath a rock.  "Oh, no.  Don't say that," he groaned, but he was chuckling as he said this.

            "Is this part of the lesson?"  inquired Draco.

            "No, no it isn't!  Professor McGonagall is not cooperating," declared Lupin.  "Cooperation is essential for martial arts, and yet, she is still not listening to me."

            McGonagall took the target out of his hands and transfigured it into a bouquet of flowers.

            Lupin said, "McGonagall has no respect for her senior black belts, as you can plainly see.  If she were not a professor, I would give her detention."

            McGonagall smiled more broadly.

            "I shall have to think of an alternate punishment then," said Lupin.  He sniffed the flowers and said, "They're very nice, Professor McGonagall, but you are supposed to be my assistant, and all you're doing is distracting the students."

            "It's vacation," exclaimed McGonagall.

            "I know, I was only joking." Lupin smiled.  He turned to the students and said, "You all know I was joking, right?  I'm not a stuffy old codger like Snape.  I'm the fun professor.  And it's Christmas Eve; I'm not giving anybody detention."

            Lupin eventually got the lesson back on track by breaking a board and awing everyone into silence.  Actually, it's fairly easy to break a board, but they didn't know that.

            What happened was this:  Curiosity had driven Hagrid to stop in and watch the tae kwon doists.  He peeked around the corner of the open door--his great, big, bushy beard giving him away instantly.

            "Hagrid!  How are you doing?"  Lupin greeted his old friend and co-worker.

            Hagrid beamed.  "I'm good.  An' you?"

            "Fine," said Lupin.  "Would you care to join us?"

            "Oh, I don' think I could.  I on'y stopped in ter see what yer doin'.  I've never seen karate before," said Hagrid.  He also had to chop some firewood that morning and put up several signs around the lake.  The signs read, 'DANGER--Angry Sea Squid.'

            "Hagrid, could I borrow one of those signs?"  asked Lupin.

            "Sure, what for?"  asked Hagrid.

            "I'm going to break a board," said Lupin.

            It was then that Rubeus Hagrid had a glorious daydream.  He was a free-roaming karate master taming and befriending wild dragons, traversing the Japanese countryside with his fire-breathing companions and quelling evil karate villains.  "Is there anythin' I can do?"  he asked.

            "As a matter of fact, yes.  You can hold the board for me.  I would ask McGonagall, but I seriously doubt that she would be willing," said Lupin.

            Hagrid was very excited about participating in this demonstration.  He clutched the top and bottom of the board and clenched his arm muscles.

            Lupin stood back and brought his hand behind his ear.  "This is called a knife hand strike, if I haven't already told you," he said.  "Someday you will be able to do this too, my little grasshoppers."

            Lupin slowly brought his hand to the center of the board three times.  After he'd gauged the angle and power that was needed, he broke through the wood in one swift motion, dividing the board into two clean pieces.  He placed his hands at his sides and bowed to Hagrid.  "Kam Sahm Needa."

            Ron whispered to Hermione, "What does Commsamnida mean again?"

            "It means 'thank you,'" whispered Hermione.

            Following this board breaking demonstration, Hagrid stayed to watch the rest of the lesson.  McGonagall was quite pleased to have company on the sidelines.  Lupin taught the children two more self-defense techniques against single hand wrist grabs, and then he dismissed them for the day.

            All of the students except for Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny had already left by the time Snape appeared.  He stood menacingly in the frame of the doorway, blocking the last four from exiting.  Harry's nose was an inch away from the dark fabric of a wizard's robes; he looked up and saw a familiar crooked nose, two piercing gray eyes, and a rather smug smile.  Oh, no.  He knew that look.

            McGonagall smelled something sweet in the air.  It was like... flowers.  She sniffed around, and her nose led her in the direction of Severus Snape.  Aaaach!  His hair smelled like flowers again, just like yesterday!  It was all washed and groomed, and--and pettable!

            Snape caught her looking at him, and she narrowed her eyes.  Was Severus trying to impress her?  McGonagall shuddered.

            But then again.....  The man _was_ wealthy.  He was the only child and sole heir of Lord Ealhdun Snape the Third and his wife, Odette.  (Lady Odette Snape came from France, making Severus half English and half French.)  Minerva knew very well that their family was sitting atop a pile of gold.  And it was accumulating interest with every minute that passed.

            McGonagall and Lupin inquired at nearly the exact same time, "Yes, Severus?  What do you want?"

            "Potter needs to come with me immediately," Snape ordered.  "The Headmaster seeks an audience with him."

            "Oh, no.  What's the matter this time?"  asked McGonagall, filled with dread.  Had this message anything to do with the Dark Lord Voldemort?

            Snape answered promptly, "I suspect he was sneaking around in my office last night."

            McGonagall turned to Harry.  "Harry, is this true?"  She would be highly surprised if he said anything other than 'no.'

            Harry shifted.  He looked back and forth from McGonagall to Snape to Lupin to Hagrid.....

            "Er, um.  No," he denied.

            Snape gave him a cold look and said, "Lying won't get you anywhere, Potter.  Come along; the Headmaster is waiting."

            Harry gulped and looked despondently at Hermione.  She wore a confused expression.

            The Potions master and his newly acquired prisoner left the porch and headed toward Dumbledore's office.

            "Well, that was odd," remarked Lupin.

            Hermione wouldn't let Harry's arrest put a stopper on their plans, though.  She was still fully intent on getting Lupin's job back.

            "So, I guess we'll be going now," she said, looking at Ron and Ginny.

            "Right," Ginny said brightly, and the three Gryffindors filed through the double doors of the dining hall and headed for the laundry room.  They had agreed during the water break to hold their meeting in the laundry room, as they expected to have the most privacy there.  Who would be washing their clothes on the day before Christmas?

…………………to be continued


	12. Prelude to an Augmentation

_the__ twelfth installment of_

A Sackful of Holiday Horsefeathers 

~~~~~~~

            McGonagall turned to Lupin and Hagrid and asked, "Would you like to hear a rumor, by any chance?"

            "What is it?"  asked Lupin.

            "I heard that Severus won't inherit the Snape Estate after his father's death unless he's married," said McGonagall, savoring every word.

            Lupin smirked.  "I almost feel sorry for him now."

            Hagrid nodded.

            "His father doesn't want to leave Severus a single Knut unless he can produce an heir," continued McGonagall.  "Perhaps he'll find someone compatible.  If not, his family estate is going to be turned over to the Department for Magical Parks and Recreation."

            "No!" exclaimed Lupin in disbelief.

            "Yes," said McGonagall.  "It's going to become a national park.  And all of the Snapes' wealth will be donated to charitable organizations."

            "Charitable organizations... like what?"  inquired a dazed Lupin.

            McGonagall grinned.  "Like animal shelters and hospitals.  And libraries for underprivileged children.  Mr. Ealhdun is prepared to donate his entire library of magic books; it's already stated in his will."

            Hagrid said, "He's a good man, that Mr. Ealhdun Snape.  Pity his son went astray like he did."

            Lupin asked, "But doesn't Severus have any brothers or sisters?  Or any cousins who could inherit the estate?"

            "No."  McGonagall shook her head.  "And he probably won't have any in the future, either.  Lady Odette absolutely refuses to give birth to another child."

            "Where do you get all this information from?"  asked Lupin.

            "Well, I admit, I wouldn't know half the things I do if it weren't for Poppy," said McGonagall.  "If you want to know anything, she's the woman to ask."

            Hagrid advised him, "Just be careful not to tell her anything personal-like."  He still resented talking to Pomfrey about his crush on Madame Maxime.

            "What other charities did Snape Senior pick?"  asked Lupin.

            "Um... I believe he chose some natural hot springs in Austria.  He's apparently very fond of bathing there," said McGonagall.

            "Oh," said Lupin.  "We don't, um, happen to have any hot springs in Hogwarts, do we?  Other than the Prefects' Bath--"

            "No, we don't.  I already checked while we were looking for the Chamber of Secrets," said McGonagall curtly.  "But don't tell Dumbledore."

            "I won't," said Lupin.

            Madame Pomfrey was then seen running through the dining hall looking flushed and breathless_._  The house-elves who were busily mopping the floor dropped their buckets and scurried away so as not to be seen.

            "Minerva!"  cried Madame Pomfrey as she burst in upon them.

            "What _is_ the matter this time?"  inquired McGonagall with a slight note of annoyance.  She couldn't get more than a moment alone with Remus Lupin, it seemed.

            Pomfrey stopped to catch her breath, and then she said, "The children--I tested their blood for drugs, and I found traces of opiate!  Oh, dear.  How could they have snuck it in?  Where did they get it from?  Those poor, poor children.  How could anybody--"

            "Opiate?"  Lupin intervened.  "Do you mean opium?"

            "Why, yes.  Draco Malfoy had the most of it," said Pomfrey.

            "And Ginny?"  inquired McGonagall.

            "She had some as well, but not as much as Draco and Hermione."

            "We need to tell their parents," said McGonagall.

            "Oh, dear.  I suppose we have to," said Pomfrey.  "I hate that part of my job."

            "If you don't mind, Poppy, could I have a look at the samples myself?"  asked McGonagall.

            "Oh, of course.  Right then, come along."  Pomfrey turned to leave, expecting the Headmistress to follow straight away; the nurse was still quite flustered.

            McGonagall gave her sweetheart a lingering peck on the cheek, and he returned the gesture with a kiss on her lips.

            "I won't be long," she told him.

            "I know you won't," he murmured.

            She beamed at him, slowly backing away, and mouthed silently 'bye.'  Then she departed with Madame Pomfrey.

            Hagrid took a step toward Lupin.  "Well, if it isn't one thing, it's another," he muttered.

            Lupin grunted.  (Yes, Lupin grunts.  All men grunt.  It is the universal mode of male communication.)

            Hagrid interpreted this as a sign of agreement, which it was.  "Now, see here.  I bet it was Draco Malfoy who bought the drugs.  Always those rich kids who buy the expensive stuff, they get the money from their parents."

            "I never heard of any drug problems when I went to school here," said Lupin.

            Hagrid scratched his beard.  "Come to think of it, neither did I."

            "Are we losing our memories?"

            "No, I don't think so," said Hagrid uncertainly.

            "Maybe I'm just choosing to remember the good parts, like that saying goes with 'rose-colored glasses,'" suggested Lupin.

            "No.  If there ever was a drug problem, I'd a remembered it," said Hagrid, more certain this time.

            Lupin nodded, stroking his chin.  It was covered in soft fuzz--the beginnings of a beard.  He was letting his sideburns grow out as well, for Minerva had said she liked the way they looked on him.

            Hagrid suddenly remembered that he had unaccomplished work.  He frowned and said, "Wish I could stay and chat an' have a drink with you, but I've got more work to do.  Stables need cleaning out, an' they're not about to do it on their own."

            Lupin smiled.  "Well, it was nice talking to you.  I'm sure we'll see you at lunch."

            "Oh, probably," said Hagrid.

            "Take care," said Lupin.

            Still leaning out over the porch railing, Remus Lupin heaved a sigh.  His lungs filled up with the sweet, intoxicatingly fresh, country air.  It was so beautiful here--here at Hogwarts, that is.  He'd hardly had time to appreciate its natural beauty as a student, and even less as a professor, but the memory had somehow endured.

            It was chilly, being December, but Lupin's heavy wool robes kept him warm.  Being at Hogwarts among the forest and Quidditch field and all the old familiar comforts made him feel at home again.  Of course, Hogwarts seemed different to him in person than it did in his memory, but it was still beautiful.  He hoped that it would stay this way forever--or at least for the next few millennia.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

            Up in the office of Hogwarts' notably eccentric Headmaster, Dumbledore was scrutinizing the fifteen year-old boy who sat before him, none other than Harry Potter.  The youth was trying to make himself comfortable in an over-sized, antique chair while being stared at by Severus Snape.

            At the moment, Snape was presenting his evidence.  "My office was clearly ransacked.  A watering can was lying on the floor, plainly tipped over.  There was water all over the floor."

            Dumbledore put on a curious expression.  "What, may I ask, do you do with a watering can?"

            Snape glared back at him.  "I water my plants."

            "You have plants?"

            "Yes.  Does that surprise you?"  growled Snape.

            Dumbledore quickly shook his head.  "No.  Not at all.  Harry, where were you last night?"

            "I was asleep in my room.  With Ron," replied Harry.

            "Well, if that's all you have to say, Harry, then you may leave.  Go have fun with your friends.  Professor Snape, it appears that you were mistaken."

            Harry murmured, "Thank you, sir," and began to rise out of the high-backed chair.

            A nonchalant drawl broke the relieved atmosphere.  "Sit down, Potter, or Ah'll break ya fingas," Snape threatened.

            Harry collapsed into his seat and grasped the armrests with trembling hands.  Such a strange threat!  Snape usually addressed them with, '(Insert Gryffindor name here), why did you let that cauldron boil over?  Ten points from Gryffindor!'

            Dumbledore noticed the frightened look on Harry's face and told him, "Oh, Harry.  He doesn't really mean it."

            "It's not that, sir," Harry said.  "I was just surprised at his--Professor Snape's change of threat.  Usually it's, 'Ten points from Gryffindor.'"

            "Oh, I see," said Dumbledore.

            "I don't know if I can get used to this one," Harry went on.  "Four and a half years of listening to the same expressions; I--I just can't switch horses midstream.  It's too late for that."

            Snape suggested, "Well, how about this one?  Ten points from Gryffindor, or Ah'll break ya fingas!"

            Harry squirmed.  "It's an improvement."

            "Thank you," said Snape.

            Dumbledore cleared his throat.  "Professor Snape, why did you order Harry to sit down?"

            "Because we have more to discuss," growled Snape.  "I found _this_ on the floor of my office last night."  He held out a tiny piece of silvery, luminescent fabric.

            Dumbledore gently examined this piece of fabric.  "It appears to be part of an Invisibility Cloak," he declared.  He looked at Harry; his eyes had lost their luster.

            Harry was dumbfounded.  How had this happened?  Weren't magical things, like, immune to rips and tears?  Did Snape have an Invisibility Cloak as well?  Or did Harry and Ron accidentally tear the one Harry owned?  If so, how could it--

            The shroud, last night it had been tossed upon--

            "Do you have anything to say to the Headmaster, Mr. Potter?"  inquired Snape.

            Harry gulped.  "Yes.  I--I'm very sorry, but it had to be done," he began.

            Last night, they must have tossed the cloak upon the mice cage!  Those little vermin, they could chew through anything with their sharp teeth!

            "_What_ had to be done?"  asked Dumbledore.

            "Well, I guess I had to tell you sometime or other," said Harry.  "Professor Snape was hiding a dangerous, three-headed snake in that box he brought back from Hogsmeade yesterday."

            Snape laughed.

            "It's true!"  Harry's eyes glared angrily.  "He's keeping it in an aquarium in his office, on top of a picnic table!  And he feeds it live mice!"

            Dumbledore was now paying close attention.  "What did this snake look like?"

            "It was orange and black, and it had giant fangs!"

            "The boy is delusional.  I have no such creature," proclaimed Snape.

            Dumbledore continued his inquiries.  "Did the creature speak to you, Harry?"

            "Yes!"  cried the boy.  "She told me a lot of things.  For instance, she told me that she's descended from the snake that belonged to Salazar Slytherin!  And she mentioned _you_!  She said that you were hiding her from Muggles because they wanted to use her in cloning experiments!"

            "Why would they want to do that?"  asked Dumbledore.  He was getting confused.  Up til the last statement, Harry's description had made sense.

            "Because this snake, it's like, dividing right now.  It's asexual, and it--it divides an' stuff," Harry said.

            "Really?"  Dumbledore raised his dignified, white eyebrows.  "Well, I have something to tell you, Mr. Potter.  I was in Professor Snape's office this morning, and there was no aquarium, no snake, and no live mice."

            "Oh?"  Harry felt as if he'd been tricked.

            "Yes.  Not only was his office lacking in dangerous beasts, the creature you described does not exist.  There _are_ no asexual, dividing, orange and black snakes in the real world.  And I also find it highly unlikely that a snake would keep a record of its family tree.  Even more unlikely that it would be linked to Salazar Slytherin," said Dumbledore.

            Snape was very pleased.

            Dumbledore concluded, "It's much more likely that you invented this story as a way to get out of trouble, Mr. Potter.  To distract me from the fact that you broke into Professor Snape's office.  You will have detention for this."

            Harry gasped.

            Snape added, "And count yourself lucky that nothing was missing."

            Dumbledore wrote something down on a piece of paper and handed it to Harry.  "You will be serving detention with Dobby in the kitchen.  You are to scrub the pots and pans until lunchtime."

            "Yes, sir," murmured Harry.  He arose and walked toward the door in a daze.  This wasn't supposed to happen!  And with Dobby, nonetheless!  That annoying, non-matching, self-liberated house-elf.  Of course, Dobby _meant_ well, and he was quite fun at times, but to spend a whole morning with him washing dishes!  Snape would pay for this.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

            Hermione, Ron, and Ginny had engaged the help of Elaine and Elizabeth in their project, and they were now all assembled in the cellar laundry room.  They had been making small talk for fifteen minutes, and Hermione had already taken on the role of notetaker.  Other than that, nothing much had been accomplished.

            The unmistakable voice of Draco Malfoy sliced the air like a knife.  "Well, what have we here?  Three Gryffindors, a Ravenclaw, and even a Hufflepuff."

            Ron asked, "What are you doing here, Malfoy?"

            "Nothing is complete without a Slytherin," answered Draco.  He looked at Ron and said, "I changed my mind about Lupin.  I think he _is_ the best man for the job--after Snape, that is.  And that's why I'm here, to help him get his job back."

            "Is that all?"  Ron asked, his voice laden with suspicion.  The rest of the students waited expectantly for Draco's reply.

            "What do you mean, '_is that all_?'"  said Draco, more than a little miffed.  A year ago, he wouldn't have lifted a finger for Lupin, and now here he was, trying to do something nice for the man--

            "I mean, Malfoy, what else do you have up your sleeve?"  demanded Ron.

            "I'm also hoping that McGonagall will lighten up our Transfiguration load," admitted Draco.

            "What does that have anything to do with our plan?"  demanded Elaine, the seventh year Ravenclaw.  She looked down the tip of her nose at Draco.

            Draco said to her, "A McGonagall getting laid on a regular basis is a lot nicer than a McGonagall giving us loads of homework on a regular basis."

            Ginny said, "He has a good point."

            Elizabeth nodded.

            Draco said, "I really do want to get some work done.  I think if we all sit down at this table and put our heads together, we could come up with something."

            Hermione looked at him with admiration.  Here was her man--taking charge!  How sexy.  "And I brought a notebook," she said.  "So I'll be the official notetaker."

            The six students each pulled up a chair and gathered around the table.  Hermione ran a hand through her fluffy brown hair, trying to smooth it out, and opened the notebook to the first clean sheet.  "So, does anyone have any ideas?"

            Ron said, "This could be like SPEW, and we could make multi-colored pins for people to wear."

            Hermione said, "I was thinking along the lines of something more effective this time."

            Ron tried another idea.  "Or we could hold a demonstration in the Front Foyer--for Dumbledore to see."

            Ginny said, "And get Rita Skeeter to come, too.  She could write about it in the Daily Prophet!"

            "Interesting tactic," Hermione said tactfully, copying it down after Ron's demonstration idea.  Somehow, Hermione found it hard to believe that Rita Skeeter would help them after the girl had trapped the Animagus in a glass jar last year.  But it was worth a shot...

            Elizabeth tried to brainstorm, but her mind was a blank.  Why did it seem like everyone else could think of things at the drop of a hat?  And then suddenly, she had an inspiration.  "I could draw the posters!"  she said.  "The banners and the posters for the demonstration.  I'd make them really big, I promise."

            Hermione smiled, feeling that the project was getting underway.  "That's smashing.  I'd love to see the whole foyer covered in them.  It would be like the sixties all over again..."  A dreamy look came over her face.

            Most of the magic folk were wondering, 'What's so special about the sixties?'

            Ginny was thinking, 'Maybe it's the name of one of those Muggle dives...'

            Ron was just happy that Draco hadn't made any suggestions yet.  Ha!  He was ahead of the blonde by two points!

            A loud noise erupted behind them.  Hermione jumped, and her quill skidded across the paper in a jagged, blotchy line.

            "What was that?"  exclaimed Ginny.

            Elaine stood up and took one look at the washers.  She groaned, "Not again," and raced over to her laundry basin.  She tapped the brim with her wand and raised the lid.  Elizabeth rushed to her side to help her.

            "What's the matter?"  Draco asked unexpectedly.

            "I don't know," said Elaine.  "It won't do the spin cycle.  I was never very good with that charm, and it doesn't help that a million people use this washer every day!"

            "If you'll allow me, ladies," said Draco suavely as he pulled his wand out and joined the two girls.

            Elaine grimaced at him.  "Oh, and what do you think you can do that I haven't already tried?"

            Draco was not about to let her silly attitude dampen his charisma.  "Watch, and maybe you'll learn something."  He gently stirred his wand in the air in a counter-clockwise motion and recited, "_Lavatura__ metere d'accordo_."  To the girls' delight, the familiar hum of the spin cycle resumed, and Draco smiled.  "Also, if you want to keep your clothes from fading, I'll let you in on another secret.  Fizzy Laundry Charming Flakes.  They make everything fluffy soft, too.  Here, feel my robes."

            Draco leisurely extended an arm.  Elizabeth looked at her friend Elaine and giggled.  She gingerly touched the long, black sleeve of his cloak and declared, "They _are_ soft."

…………………….to be continued


	13. Dumbledore Learns Something

**Chapter 13**

            "What is getting into the children these days?"  said Dumbledore, shaking his head in wonder.

            "Merlin knows," Snape muttered sullenly.

            "First Hermione and Malfoy and Ginny Weasley in the Prefects' Bathroom, and now Harry Potter gallivanting all over the grounds," continued Dumbledore.

            "If I may point out, sir, this is not the first time," Snape noted.

            Dumbledore, as usual, paid no attention to the wizard's perpetual moroseness.  "I would like to know the root of all this energy--in the absence of any external excitement, the students seem to be creating mayhem out of nothing...  I would be very interested indeed."

            "It is the sickness of adolescence," declared Snape.

            "Ah, but whereas you see the goblet as half-empty, I see it as half-full," said Dumbledore.  "Perhaps these shenanigans are the elixir of youth, and not its sickness.  In the absence of the Dark Lord's reign of terror, we can realize what it is to rejoice.  They have seen death; they have mourned the loss of Cedric Diggory, and now they are realizing how good it is to be alive.  The joys of everyday life, once taken for granted--the frivolity, the forni--"

            Snape rolled his eyes.  "Headmaster, you have forgotten your place, which is to discipline the students, not admire them."

            "Tsk, tsk.  You do admonish me so," Dumbledore said.  "If you don't learn how to agree with me, you'll never get that Defense Against the Dark Arts position you desire."

            "Oh, but--"

            "Now, Severus.  Don't deny it, we all know it's true," Dumbledore said firmly.

            "I never said--"

            "Your assignment this January is to learn how to ingratiate yourself with me.  Get in my good graces by displaying tactfulness and sincerity," Dumbledore told him.  "Too often your sarcasm turns people away, and your brutal honesty is merely repugnant.  If you think yourself clever, why don't you prove it to me?"

            "What more shall I do?  What more do you demand from me?"  Snape questioned angrily.

            "Just as I expect you to make certain all of your students pass their Potions exams, I expect you to learn the delicate art of brown-nosing."

            Snape made an abrupt sound that resembled a cough.

            It was at this time that Professor McGonagall and Madame Pomfrey arrived on the scene.  Dumbledore let them in, not oblivious to the way Snape was staring at McGonagall.  'Oh, no.  This is not boding well for harmonious employee relations,' the Headmaster thought.

            As the two witches entered, Dumbledore said brightly, "Ah, my lovely ladies.  Rejoice today, for tomorrow you could be dead."

            McGonagall and Pomfrey hardly fluttered an eyelash; they were well used to his oddities by now.

            "My dear Dumbledore, I--I have something to report," the nurse said, her voice coming soft and unsteady from her parted lips.

            Dumbledore raised a silencing hand.  "If it has anything to do with three-headed creatures of demonic origin, I don't want to hear about it."

            "No," said McGonagall.  "It's about health matters."

            Pomfrey nodded.

            McGonagall prompted her, "I believe this is your terrain."

            "Oh, yes.  Well, you see, this all goes back to the Bathroom Incident," said Pomfrey, a faint blush appearing on her cheeks.

            Dumbledore nodded.

            "Having tested the children for several other spells and charms, I decided this morning to analyze their blood samples using forensic methods," explained Pomfrey.  "I checked the calibrators and controls thrice over, so everything is quite accurate.  I then ran a few screenings, and one of them came out positive."

            "Positive for what?"  inquired Snape.

            "Opiates," came the nurse's shocking reply.

            Snape crooned innocently, "Dumbledore, what was that you were saying about the Elixir of Youth?"

            Dumbledore pretended to ignore him.

            Pomfrey boasted, "I utilized my Immunassay Kit that arrived from Diagon Alley a little while ago."

            "So you're positive that all three of them were under the influence of opiates?"  Dumbledore asked.

            "Yes," said Pomfrey.  "After the presumptive test, I used my Aer Grafocolorare Pondus Iris-Aspectus Modicus 2002 to evaluate the actual molecular structure of the drug.  It proved to be a derivative of the Snapping Opium Poppy, which only grows in Northern Morocco and a tiny sliver of Turkey."

            Dumbledore requested, "Could you repeat that name--what did you use?  Some Air Grapho thingy majingy...?"

            "The Aer Grafocolorare Pondus Iris-aspectus Modicus 2002," she promptly repeated.

            "Er, what does that mean in English?"

            "Gas Chromatograph-Mass Spectrometer," said Pomfrey.

            Dumbledore looked no more enlightened than before.

            "For short, we call it the GC/MS," said Pomfrey.

            Dumbledore brightened.  "Good.  That's good.  GC/MS.  Thank you."

            McGonagall suggested, "Albus, do you think it's a good idea to begin random drug testing at Hogwarts?  I know it's a little extreme, but I don't just want to sit around here doing nothing, you understand."

            "The difficulty with random drug testing it that, essentially, it is invasion of privacy," said Dumbledore.  "Also, it would have to be approved by the School Board of Trustees, and you know how long it takes them to agree on anything.

            "I believe that we should simply put stricter controls on the property entering Hogwarts.  Whatever they took had to have entered the school doors.  I will have Professor Flitwick charm the doors into setting off a silent alarm whenever they sense these Muggle 'drugs.'"

            "That's brilliant," cried McGonagall.

            Dumbledore turned to Snape.  "Did you see that?"  the Headmaster exclaimed jubilantly.  "Did you hear the way she said that?  Perfect timing and intonation!  _That's_ what I mean when I ask you to brown-nose."

            "Oh, _now_ I understand," proclaimed Snape with mock enthusiasm.

            "That's it precisely!"  Dumbledore beamed at him.

            "Albus, what do we do with Hermione and Draco and Ginny?"  asked McGonagall.

            "Well, we should—um—let them be for now," advised Dumbledore.

            "What?  Why—"  cried McGonagall and Snape in unison.  They then looked at each other suspiciously.

            Dumbledore assured them, "It's all for the best.  Draco Malfoy is finally acting civilly among his peers.  Gryffindor and Slytherin are finally at peace.  It's moments like these that I treasure.  Please—let me hold onto this."

            "Well, what about Hermione?"  demanded McGonagall.  "Malfoy may be _using_ her!  She's young and naïve!"

            "Malfoy is certainly not using Granger!"  yelled Snape.  "He's a Slytherin.  He has pride."

            Before McGonagall could counter, Dumbledore exclaimed, "I _said, please let me hold onto this!"_

            Minerva McGonagall glared at him, her eyes stone-cold.  "This is serious, Albus.  We're not talking about your old school days and your 'experimentation with the mind-expanding drugs.'  We need to find out where the opiates came from."

            Pomfrey and Snape both stared at her in amazement.  People rarely spoke to Headmaster Dumbledore in that fashion.

            After catching his breath, Dumbledore admitted, "You're right, Minerva.  Where would I be without you, my dear Headmistress?  We will contact their parents immediately—"

            "No!"  yelled Snape.

            "Pardon?"  said Dumbledore.

            "I know where they got it from," said Snape, "and it's all my doing.  I taught Malfoy how to make a potion as a make-up assignment.  It had a trace of Snapping Opium Poppy in it, but it was mixed with whale blubber—which cancels out the addictive properties of opium."

            The three listeners were puzzled.  Why hadn't he spoken up before?

            Dumbledore inquired, "What kind of potion is this?"

            "Larghe Vedute Siero, Open Mindedness Serum," answered Snape.  "A Level Eight Potion.  It does no harm to the brain whatsoever.  As I told Malfoy, if he feels compelled to take it, then the only thing he's addicted to is being open-minded."

            "Well," the nurse exclaimed.  "Wonders never cease."

            "I'm summoning Flitwick, regardless," said Dumbledore.  "This all goes to show how susceptible we are to these Muggle substances.  They could easily be hidden in a robe or a suitcase—brought in under our very noses."

            McGonagall nodded.  "I still wonder how Hermione and Ginny were administered the potion.  Professor Snape, you say that you taught it only to Malfoy.  You leave the rest to conjecture.  Tell me, why would Hermione dabble with such a potent potion?"

            The wizard set forth one of his prefabricated theories, "I can explain that, Minerva.  Hermione Granger is very clever, and with such intelligence comes a deep thirst for knowledge.  She must learn about everything she can.  She soaks up stimuli like a sponge."

            McGonagall raised a single, slim eyebrow.  Snape went on, "Hermione Granger and Ginny Weasley both know what they're getting into.  I can't believe you'd accuse my pupil of anything so dastardly.  To insinuate that Draco Malfoy would force it upon them is low—very low, Minerva."

            "It takes one to know one," breathed Minerva.

            Snape opened his mouth to tell her off, but he stopped himself short as the prospect of a promotion crossed his mind.  Insulting the Headmistress wouldn't look very good on his resume, now, would it?

            Pomfrey sighed; she did so long to overhear more fodder for gossip.

            Dumbledore seemed to be coming to a conclusion—and sure enough, he was.

            "You mustn't teach this potion to any more students, Severus," he said firmly.   "It is a mind-altering potion and it carries a great deal of responsibility.  It makes people change their attitudes toward social class, something that is usually so firmly established that it cannot be altered.  Mixing with students outside of one's clique—it's unheard of!  Without any kind of system for social ranking, there will be mass orgies every night.  The students' sexual urges will be uninhibited."

            "But I thought you approved of that," Snape remarked sarcastically.

            "I approve of natural, healthy relationships between two people who respect each other.  I do not approve of mass orgies and you know that, Severus.  Now, bear with me," said Dumbledore.  "You three are to keep quiet about this.  Severus, tell Malfoy and the girls they are not to share their 'stash' with anyone else.  Just tell them that I think it's too dangerous to share with the school population at large."

            "I shall," said Snape.

            As he and the two witches were about to leave, Professor Flitwick entered.  "What did you want, Headmaster?"  inquired the Charms professor.

            "I need you to put a charm on the doors to keep out Muggle narcotics," said Dumbledore.

            Flitwick nearly fainted.  "But—I don't think there's a spell for that, sir."

            "What?  There has to be," said Dumbledore.

            "I don't even _know_ any narcotics…"

            "Well, look into it."

            "But I was going to charm the Christmas tree ornaments today!"  cried Flitwick, looking heartbroken.

            "Into doing what?"  inquired Dumbledore.

            "Singing four-part harmonies.  I'm teaching them the entire score of The Pajama Game," explained Flitwick.

            "If you can do that, then I'm sure you can teach the doors about narcotics," said Dumbledore soothingly.  "Now, everyone get out of my office.  You're making dear Fawkes claustrophobic."

            They all looked up at the Phoenix, who was perched on a bookshelf and nibbling at the pages of an atlas.

            As the foursome departed, Dumbledore muttered to his frazzled self, "How does The Pajama Game have anything to do with Christmas?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

            And that is how Snape, Flitwick, Pomfrey, and McGonagall ended up walking together.  Flitwick was still in the dark as to what had transpired in the office prior to his being summoned, and so Pomfrey filled him in on the details.

            At the end of her tale, Snape proclaimed, "I'm sick of hearing about Granger and Malfoy.  It reminds me of the time Lily Evans had that annoying crush on me."

            Flitwick told him gently, as if breaking the news to some poor, deluded child, "Lily never had a crush on you, Severus."

            "I beg to differ," Snape grunted.

            Hesitantly, Flitwick remarked, "But I thought she only liked the guys who had bands."

            After an expectant hush, he added, "And James, of course."

            Snape asked him leadingly, "Then why was she always stealing my textbooks?"

            McGonagall cried, "What?  I thought you were just forgetful and left them behind in the classroom.  And Lily Evans… was a very conscientious girl.  One might say _too_ conscientious."

            "No!"  yelled Snape.  "She hid them on me, and then she'd pretend to find them and slip into Slytherin quarters just to see me."

            Flitwick nearly tipped over from laughing.

            "I'm serious," said Snape.  "She was extremely annoying.  How would you like to have an uninvited Slytherin in the Gryffindor Common Room?"

            McGonagall said dazedly, "Lily go into the Slytherin Common Room?  Lily Evans?  We are talking about the same Lily, right?"

            "And sometimes," Snape added, "she would go into the boys' dormitories.  It was an outrage, I tell you.  I was taking a nap one day, and she jumped on my bed, no warning at all—"

            Pomfrey cried delightedly, "Who would've guessed it?"

            McGonagall said, "I'm beginning to doubt the paternity of Harry Potter."

            Snape shuddered.  "No son of mine would be that inept at potion making."

            "He's very good at Charms, though," said Flitwick.

            "Why didn't you like her?"  asked McGonagall.

            "I'll give you a parchment full of reasons why!"  yelled Snape indignantly.  "She was impossible to like.  Perky, Gryffindor Muggleborn.  Named after a flower.  Putrid smelling flower, at that.  Had that annoying laugh.  Never knew when to shut up—"

            "It's not very nice to speak ill of the dead, Severus," said Flitwick.

            "Well, I'm not a nice person.  And may she rest in peace.  Even though she was always bothersome and trying to domesticate me," grumbled Snape.

            McGonagall murmured, "A domesticated Severus?  Oh, my."

            "You see?  Even Minerva agrees; it's unthinkable," Snape declared.

            He turned away from the group and strode off hurriedly.  Minerva McGonagall watched him go.  She wondered about that strange wizard and his new hairstyle, and his irritable demeanor.  He never smiled.  Never.  Just what unfortunate combination of factors had created Severus Snape?  Would anyone ever know?

            With a shake of her head, she resolved that she ought not to speculate about things that could never be solved.  Then she looked up and realized that the others had disappeared.  She was all alone again.

            Where was Remus Lupin?

……………………to be continued


	14. Minerva's Decision

**Chapter 14**

            Minerva hurried back to the dining hall, but all was deserted.  There was no friendly fire blazing in the hearth.  The room was cold and empty.

            Minerva didn't think she'd been gone for such a long time.  Stupid men, they didn't know how to wait five minutes.  She had _told_ him she wouldn't be long.  Did he not listen?  Did he not speak English?

            'But maybe he has a good reason,' she thought.  'Maybe he's in the bathroom.'

            Minerva crossed her arms and paced to and fro.  She noted approvingly that the floor had just been swept and mopped, for it now displayed her reflection.  There was nothing she hated more than a dirty floor.

            After a minute, however, the house-elves' mopping job failed to amuse her.  She began to think of other things--more terrifying things--that could have befallen her Remus.

            What if he got lost on the way to the bathroom--and ended up going down a forgotten secret passageway?  But that couldn't happen; Remus already knew all the secret passages.

            Or what if Severus got hold of him?  No--Severus was accounted for and had plenty of alibis.

            But what if Remus fell down a flight of stairs and accidentally touched a portkey and ended up in--no, that couldn't have happened either; portkeys don't work inside the castle.

            "That settles it, then.  Remus is a thoughtless bastard.  And he hasn't even left me a note," Minerva grumbled, but she immediately regretted calling him a bastard.  "Where on earth can he be?  Ugh.  What a day this is turning out to be!  Nothing is going along the way I wanted it to.  I wanted to spend all day with him, and now he's nowhere to be seen, because of Pomfrey and those stupid samples.  Oh, goodness.  Why can't I get a weekend off?  Just once, lord..."

            Minerva retreated to the staff lounge and sat down at the desk.  She had no intention of working at the moment, however, even though her fifth years' exams were piled up before her waiting to be corrected.  They'd been there for the past three days, and no one had interfered with them.

            The dark wood paneling closed in around her.  There was no light, and she laid her head down and cried softly, tears splashing upon her papers.

            She longed to fall asleep and be freed from this nightmare around her.  The nightmare of her life, one long day following the next, not knowing what the next pitfall would be.  She longed to fall asleep and enter a new dream, where she would be with Remus and far, far away from Hogwarts and Lord Voldemort and silly Secret Santa Christmas parties where she had to pretend to like her co-workers. 

            She liked Poppy and Filius, and Albus, too, but Trelawney and Snape were just abominable.

            How dreadful it would be to endure the next semester without Remus...  How dreadful to be on the verge of getting what one has always dreamed of--and terrified that it will inevitably drift away.  Drift away, the way a dream melts as one awakens early in the morning to the sound of the alarm clock...

            Minerva had a dream last night--a secret dream that she had told no one about.  It was of her husband Jules, now long gone from this world and hopefully at peace.  It seemed to hold so much significance.  So much meaning.  She was with Remus in her dream, when they suddenly ran into Jules.  She tried to run away and hide, but Jules came after her and smiled.  He reached out a hand and pulled her up from where she was cowering in a little corner.  He kissed her and told her not to be ashamed, not to hide from him because she was with another man.  And Jules held her while Remus looked on.

            Yet no one was jealous, and Jules faded away as surely as he had appeared.  Minerva woke up then, but she soon went back to sleep.

            Now she was remembering this vision--this interruption of her nightly abode.  However, she looked upon it as a blessing of sorts.  It might be a message from her husband telling her to go on and follow her heart's desire.  The future seemed a little brighter if she looked at it that way.

            There was a slight breeze behind her; it ruffled the loose strands of hair on the nape of her neck.  This tickled her, so she brushed aside the offending hair--and felt another's hand close on top of hers.

            "Remus," she whispered and wiped away the tears in her eyes.

            He leaned over her shoulder and said, "Hello."  He brought his hand out from behind his back and presented her with a single red rose.  Then he took a seat next to the desk, grinning at her with a pleasant, yet mischievous, gleam in his eyes.

            Minerva fingered the red, silky petals.  The rose was nearly in full bloom.  "I was just thinking about you," she said.

            This revelation made Remus even happier, if such a thing were possible.  He asked her, "So, why are you cooped up in here on Christmas Eve?  I've been looking all over for you."

            Minerva replied, "I'm grading my fifth years' examinations."

            Remus laughed.  "No, I--I meant that it's a holiday.  You shouldn't have to work."

            "It's not a holiday for me," said Minerva.  "I'm Jewish."

            "You're Jewish?"  exclaimed Remus.  "I didn't know that."

            "Because I never told you," said Minerva, setting down her quill.

            "Well, that explains that," said Remus.  "Oh, and what about that opium scare?"

            "Are you trying to distract me from my work?"  asked Minerva.

            "No, I just like the atmosphere.  I've fond memories of this staff room.  Like the time Poppy and Hagrid got tipsy on butterbeer and danced the Charleston right over there," he nodded toward the piano.

            "I remember that..."  She thought, 'You're going to leave me in two weeks...'  She said aloud, "You _are_ trying to distract me from my work, aren't you?  With your wispy brown hair and your boyish good looks.  And the way you smell, like a man who's been out hunting in the woods and rolling around in the grass..."

            He gripped the arms of his chair and leaned forward slightly.

            "Honestly, what gets into you women?  I just enter a room, and you're all ready to devour me," said Remus.

            "That sounds like a good idea.  Care if I take you up on it?"  she offered politely.

            Remus smiled bashfully.  "I'd enjoy that very much."

            "After all, these other things can wait," said Minerva, dismissing the exams with a harried glance.

            "You're not being too harsh on the students, I hope?"  said Remus.

            "I'm only being fair," she said.

            "You didn't give them any tricky questions, did you?  Like those 'A and B,' 'A and C,' 'B and C,' 'None of the above' questions?"

            "Are you trying to pester me?"  she asked.

            "Yes.  Is it working?"

            "No," she said calmly.  "It takes a lot more than that to get on my nerves."

            "Wait a minute; I'll think of something," Remus assured her.

            He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, apparently deep in thought.  Minerva smiled and picked up her quill.  Then the corners of her mouth quivered, and she began to laugh.

            "What are _you_ giggling about?"  inquired Remus.

            "I was just thinking about what the kids said this morning--when you were chasing me around the picnic table.  Do you think they're going to start talking about us?"

            "Does it matter?"  asked Remus.

            "Of course it matters!  I'm their teacher.  They have to take me seriously," said Minerva.

            "You don't have to be single to be taken seriously," said Remus.

            Minerva was blushing furiously.  "Oh, but I've always been--I mean, ever since, ever since I've been their teacher."

            Remus reminded her, "You were married when you began teaching here, and I don't remember any of your students running wild back then."

            "But marriage is different," declared Minerva.  "It's respectable, and traditional, and nobody thinks about two married people having sex together."

            "Well, I should _hope_ the students don't think about their teachers like that," said Remus.

            "But what if they do?"  breathed Minerva.

            "Then we refer them to a psychoanalyst," replied her mate.

            "Remus, did _you_ ever think about me when you were in school?"

            "Yes, I thought you gave us too much homework and your exams were tricky."

            "Is that all?"  she asked.

            "Well, considering you were only eight years older than me, I thought you were pretty.  And you still are pretty," he added.  "You're beautiful now."

            Minerva smiled.

            Remus continued, "Don't worry about what they think.  I mean, as long as we're discreet, everything should be fine.  You're their professor.  That's the way they see you, and it shouldn't matter if you have a... significant other."

            "A lover?"  Minerva said.

            Remus uttered, "Shhh!"  He put a finger to his lips and looked around the room as if expecting to see the Queen of England.

            Minerva giggled at his silly joking, feeling herself loosen up again.  She threw her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek.

            Remus heard her singing in his ear, "Come sail away, come sail away, come sail away with me..."

            "My dear," Remus said playfully, "I will sail away with you to the edge of the world and the River Styx."

            "And beyond the Styx?"  Minerva inquired, giving his lips another peck.

            "We will sail all the way... to the Elysian Fields," declared Remus.

            "Oh, wonderful," said Minerva.  "But is there a river running through the Elysian Fields?"

            "I would think so; otherwise, how could they irrigate the fields or have any drinking water?"

            "I see," she murmured.  "And if I left, would you come too?"

            Remus furrowed his brow.  "Left where?"

            "Here.  Hogwarts," said Minerva.

            "Don't you like it here?"  asked Remus.

            "Sometimes," she said.  "I like it just enough to keep staying here.  You know, there are moments every once in a while that are wonderful and rewarding, and they wipe away all my doubts.  They renew my ambition.

            "But it feels like a burden.  I can't explain why--"

            Remus nodded.  "I know it's a burden."

            "But it's my duty," said Minerva.  "Oh, Remus, tell me that it's not my duty, and that I'm free to go as I wish.  Tell me that I can roam the world as you did.  Tell me that it's not my fate to spend the rest of my days holed up in this loony bin."

            Remus couldn't help but laugh as she compared Hogwarts to a loony bin.  "It does seem that way sometimes."

            Minerva sighed.  "It's getting crazier.  I have this crazy urge to resign--out of the blue, in the middle of a class!"  She paused briefly.  "But I can't resign.  Dumbledore couldn't find a replacement for me so soon."

            "But he would," Remus said.  "Don't worry about that.  He'll find somebody else."

            "Oh, this is craziness.  Don't mind me," said Minerva.  "I've been here all my life; I can't just up and leave."

            "If you don't do it now, you never will," said Remus.  "Too long have you lingered on the past.  It's time to start a new life.  You went to school here, and you've been teaching here for the past twenty years.  You've also been the Deputy Headmistress for the last ten years.  You've been here your whole life, and that's precisely the reason why you have to leave."

            Minerva looked wonderingly into his eyes.  "You're reading my mind.  How are you doing that?"

            "I'm not reading your mind, although I wish I had that power.  It just stands to reason that you need a change," said Remus.

            "I do," said Minerva.

            "So sail away with me," said Remus.

            They were all of a sudden swept up in such an excitement that they burst out laughing.

            "So, are you allowed to tell me about that opium business?"  asked Remus.  "You sort of sidestepped that issue earlier--"

            She clamped a hand over his mouth and told him, "You don't ask, because I can't tell.  Dumbledore has given his orders."

            Seeing the curiosity still burning within him, she added, "It's nothing.  Believe me.  There was nothing illegal about it, anyway."

            "So the Chief of Magical Inquiry isn't about to barge in here?"  Remus said.

            Minerva shook her head.

            "Darn."  Remus sighed in mock disappointment.

            Minerva laughed.  "Maybe I'll tell you when we get to Brazil."

            Remus grinned.  "It's a deal," he said and shook her hand heartily.

            "Come here, you silly," said Minerva as she drew him closer and gave him a hug.

………………to be continued


	15. The Random Cuckoo Clock

**Chapter Fifteen**

* * *

  


            Harry glanced up at the clock for about the hundredth time that day.  His arms were elbow-deep in soapy water, and his fingertips had long ago shriveled into prunes.

            Every now and then Dobby would visit and help him with the dishes.  Housework came naturally to house-elves, so Dobby could get a sinkful washed and dried in a fraction of the time it took Harry.

            "Dobby is so happy to serve Harry Potter," sang the house-elf.

            Harry gave him a half-hearted grin, for that was all he could muster at this point.

            "You can't imagine how delighted Dobby is to see you sir," continued Dobby.  He picked up a large kettle and swirled a towel all over its dripping surfaces so quickly that his hands became one big blur to Harry's eyes.

            "The pleasure's all mine, Dobby.  Believe me," said Harry as he began scrubbing yet another rectangular cake pan.

* * *

  


            Lunchtime finally arrived, and Harry's detention was at an end.  He joined the rest of the staff and students for the midday meal.

            At the adults' end of the table, Dumbledore tried to lighten the air with some friendly banter, but Madame Pomfrey interrupted him with a question to Trelawney.

            "Oh Sibyll," she said, "I almost forgot to ask you, and the day's almost half over.  What do you think the weather will be like today?"

            "Just the same as yesterday, I expect," said Trelawney.

            "I suppose so," said Pomfrey dolefully.

            Snape whispered to her, "It doesn't work if you ask her directly."

            Dumbledore cleared his throat once more, this time determined to get a word in.

            Remus Lupin asked, "Poppy, could you please pass the chicken?"

            Pomfrey beamed at him.  "Sure!"

            Dumbledore finally gave up and did not say whatever it was that he was so keen on saying.

            Remus helped himself to a succulent chicken breast and wolfed it down in a manner reminiscent of a ravening beast.  If he had known, he would have objected to the sentence in Chapter 12 which refers to his stubble as "soft fuzz."  As I now recall, stubble is short and prickly, and terribly attractive.  But it is nothing at all like soft fuzz.  I find that I am appalled at myself for comparing Remus' chin to the outer covering of a peach.

            On the other end of the dining room table, the students were enjoying lunch as well.  Draco and Hermione were sitting next to each other, and for once, Ron and Harry were silent about the fact.

            While Elizabeth and Ginny were designing color schemes for the demonstration, Ron was catching Harry up on everything he missed.

            "We're going to stage a hippie protest," said Ron.

            "What?"  Harry exclaimed.

            "A hippie protest.  I don't know exactly what that is, but we're gonna make banners and march around and boycott our classes.  It sounds like great fun, doesn't it?  I mean, better than sitting around doing nothing.  It's been getting kind of boring lately, hasn't it?"  said Ron.

            "Well, I dunno.  The tae kwon do classes are fun," said Harry.

            "But that's only in the morning," Ron said.  "The rest of the day is so boring.  So anyway, we're going up to the Hufflepuff common room after lunch to paint the banners.  Then we're going to find Dumbledore and yell things."

            "_Yell_ things?  Like _what_?"  asked Harry.

            "You know!"  Ron said crossly, because he couldn't remember any of the things they were planning to yell.  "Cheers.  Yeah, cheers and stuff."

            Ginny had overheard their conversation and added, "Harry, I made up one of them myself.  It goes like this, 'Remus Lupin, he's our man!  If he can't do it, no one can!'"

            Not knowing what to think about that line, Harry just shook his head slowly.

            "Well?  What do you think?"  inquired Ginny.

            "Um.... That's already been done.  Lots and lots of times," said Harry.

            "Well, you think you're so smart, why don't you come up with something," said Ginny, crossing her arms.

            "I will," said Harry defiantly.

            The chatter paused for a moment as an owl swooped in over the table and dropped a letter in front of Draco Malfoy.

            Draco looked rather annoyed with the letter.  He could tell by the stationery that it was from his mother.  She always used the flowery paper.  His dad would use the black paper with the silver border on it.

            "Hi Stu," Draco greeted his owl.  He gave Stu a piece of chicken and sent him away.  Then he slid the letter under his plate and continued eating.

            "You're not going to read it?"  questioned Hermione.

            Draco sighed.  "After dessert," he said.

* * *

  


            Chocolate pudding is a dish best served at room temperature.  It was particularly good that day, and Draco had three bowls of it.  Then he finally read the note from his mother, taking care to shield it from Hermione's field of view.

'_Dearest Draco,_

_            We hope that you're enjoying your vacation.  I'm sending you a package of anise-flavored biscuits.  I just baked them this afternoon.  Hope you liked the chocolate creams.  I was going to give them to Aunt Marge, but she's on a diet right now._

_            I'm forming a female branch of the Death Eaters called S.A.S.S.  It's short for the Secret Association of Secular Sisters.  Could you tell the Slytherin girls about it for me?  Get them organized and teach them the basics.  I'll take over soon.  Thank you, darling.  _

_            Keep up with the Quidditch, your father is free for the next match, and we're looking forward to seeing you play.  We love you so much, Draco.  If you want to come home, drop us an owl.  We'll pick you right up.  Hugs and kisses to my favorite Slytherin.  We miss you so, darling. ~ Love, Mother_.'

            Hermione peered over the top of the note.  "Who is it from?"  she asked in a perky voice.

            "My mother," he said.  "And no, you may not read it."

            "May I have a biscuit?"

            "Sure."

            Hermione helped herself to a biscuit, and Draco put the note back in its envelope.

            "So what did she say?"  Hermione asked.

            "Who?"  asked Draco.

            "Your mum," said Hermione.

            "Oh, you know,"  Draco said with a shrug.  "Just the family business."   

* * *

  


            "My mother wants me to come home," said Draco.  "She says they could pick me up any time."

            He and Hermione were leaving the dining hall, and they had parted from the others.  They were now walking down a corridor on the first floor, one of the cheery ones with paintings on the walls.

            Hermione felt her pace slowing down.  "So, I guess this means you're going home."

            Draco turned his head slightly, looking at her in amazement.  "Hermione, I've never known you to jump to conclusions before."

            It was Hermione's turn to look at him, and her shock was equally great.

            "I'm not going home," said Draco.  "I'm not going anywhere."

            They slowed down their walk considerably, and within a few more steps, their feet were no longer moving.

            It seemed to Draco that his hand was magnetically drawn to Hermione's wrist.  From there, he ran his fingers down to her hand and closed them over her palm.  Hermione let him clasp her hand.  It felt so invigorating, like dominos rapidly tumbling over one after the other with no way of stopping them.

            Draco said matter-of-factly, "You're the best.  And I deserve the best."

            Hermione burst out laughing.

            "What?  What did I say?"  demanded Draco.

            "Are you always going to be this arrogant?"  laughed Hermione.

            "You call this arrogant?  I'm being a tame little puppy dog right now.  Are you sure you're not confusing me with the wonderful Gilderoy Lockhart?"  said Draco.

            "Oh, no.  He's much taller than you," said Hermione.

            Draco smiled in spite of himself, noticing her implication.  Hermione giggled.

            Now, Draco hated to break this cheery atmosphere, but he really had to get something settled.  There had been a matter weighing on his mind for some time now, and he couldn't stand the indecision any longer.

            "Hermione," he said, "What are we going to do in front of the others?"

            "What do you mean?"  she asked sharply.

            "You know--how are we going to hide this?"  asked Draco.

            "I didn't think we were going to hide anything," said Hermione.

            Draco sighed.  "I have a father who hates Muggle-borns, in case you haven't noticed.  And Crabbe and Goyle, if they ever find out about us, they're so stupid they'll probably end up spilling everything, and then _their_ parents will find out, which brings us back to my father--"

            "We'll be careful," said Hermione quickly.  That pathway between her lungs and nose had been mysteriously blocked up again, and she struggled to breathe.

            Draco said, "I know, Hermione.  You're careful.  But, well, there's...my standing to think about.  I mean, I have a reputation to uphold."

            "Draco, you're the only one in this school who hates me.  And that's only because I'm Muggle born," said Hermione.

            "_And_ you have to beat me in every subject," Draco pointed out.

            "You're so old-fashioned," complained Hermione.

            "How do you figure?"  Draco wanted to know.

            "The way you take on after the rest of the old families.  The Pureblood versus Mudblood argument was old way back in Godric Gryffindor's day.  You're so behind the times if you insist on hating Muggle-borns," explained Hermione.

            "I don't hate you on account of that anymore," said Draco.  "And on a side note, intense dislike of Muggles isn't old-fashioned so much as _tradition_--"

            Hermione interrupted, "Another thing that makes you old-fashioned is your resentfulness of women beating you in every subject."

            "But you--"

            "Women were guaranteed the right to vote a long time ago, Draco.  They even have female _rulers_ in some countries," she informed him.

            "Before this turns into a history lesson--"  Draco broke in, only to be drowned out by Hermione's lecturing.

            "Lots of women have had prominent roles in government.  Have you ever heard of Golda Meir--one of the first Prime Ministers of Israel?  And Indira Gandhi, the Prime Minister of India?  At least, until she was assassinated...  Anyway, there's Margaret Thatcher (from Great Britain of course,) and Kim Campbell, from Canada."

            "Where are all the Muggle men?"  cried Draco, envisioning his father in a frilly apron.

            Hermione shrugged.  "They're out there somewhere."

            "Well, thank you for the Muggle Studies lesson.  I take it you have a job lined up at Hogwarts right after graduation," remarked Draco with a smirk.

            Hermione thought about it for a moment.  "Actually, that's not a bad idea.  I could teach generations of children about the suppression of women, and the discrimination against minorities in the labor market..."

            Draco looked down, shaking his head.  Why, oh why, did he plant these ideas in Hermione's head time and time again?  "I wouldn't mind if you just let me have one subject--just one that I could excel at," said Draco.

            "You mean beat me at, don't you?"  said Hermione.

            "Yes," said Draco.

            He looked so cute and playful that Hermione was truly tempted to give in to his wishes.  Poor Draco.  "But at least you have Quidditch," said Hermione, and Draco knew that she would never give in.

* * *

  


            Dumbledore looked up from his crossword puzzle.  His antique Muggle cuckoo clock was chiming the hour, and its two miniature doors had opened to reveal a little Dutch boy chasing a little Dutch girl in and out of the cuckoo clock.

            Dumbledore shook his head and returned his gaze to the crossword puzzle.  His most recent job applicant was already late.  How annoying.  It wouldn't do to have a tardy Defense Against the Dark Arts Teacher.

            The current Defense Against the Dark Arts Teacher was proving to be unsatisfactory.  Dumbledore suspected him of employee theft.  'Why can't I find an HONEST employee for once?  Oh, with the exception of Remus Lupin, of course.  He was straightforward with me.  But for the love of Bob, why can't I find an HONEST son of a b--'

            An unexpected noise made the Headmaster jump out of his seat.

            "Ahem."

            Dumbledore looked about, terribly flustered, for he could see neither hide nor hair of the being the voice belonged to.

            Fawkes the Phoenix was pointing with his beak toward a spot in mid-air, where a furry, black creature was beating its wings.

            "A bat?"  murmured the Headmaster in dismay.  "I thought Hagrid took care of that pest problem months ago!"

            If the bat took offense at this, he did not show it.  Instead, he metamorphosed into his much larger, wingless form and bowed before the Headmaster.

            "Greetings, Headmaster Dumbledore," said the tall, slender man in front of the desk.  "I have been waiting for a while now, but I suspect you have many important things dwelling upon your mind."

            "Ah, yes," Dumbledore said.

            The strange man leaned far over the Headmaster's desk and introduced himself, "I am Viscount Norman de Viona.  I replied to your ad, remember?"

            Dumbledore was overwhelmed by the viscount's mere presence, but he managed to squeak out a question, "You are an Animagus?"

            Viscount Norman grinned.  "Au contraire.  I am a vampire.  But have no fear for your dear little ones; I only drink the blood of French virgins.  Preferably Veelas."

            Dumbledore swallowed.  "Could you perhaps refrain from leaning over my desk?  There is a chair, behind you.  Yes, very good boy."

            Now that the viscount was seated, Dumbledore was able to breathe again.  The scent of cologne, however, was not as amenable as its wearer; it lingered in the air for days afterward.

            "Now then," said Dumbledore, pulling out a sheet of writing paper and a quill, "Who was your last employer?"

            The viscount put on his thinking expression.  "I have had only one employer in my whole life.  It was a summer job, on St. Maarten.  During the day, I would serve drinks at a counter."

            "You were a bartender?"

            "Yes!  Yes, that's the word," said the vampire viscount.

            "Did you work on the French side or the Dutch side?"  inquired Dumbledore.

            "What does it matter?"  said the viscount carelessly.

            Dumbledore jotted down, 'Dutch side.'  "May I contact your former employer?"

            "Of course," said the viscount.  "Her name was Sophie.  Just send an owl to the Hungry Ear Café, and she'll tell you all about me."

            "Do you have any experience with children?"

            The vampire suggested, "I think you might want to rephrase that."

            Dumbledore's eyes widened.  "Um...eh...do you have any experience _teaching_ children?"

            The vampire leaned back and resumed his thinking stance.  "You know what?  I just might have experience...  Yes, I do!  There was this one time in St. Maarten when I was teaching a group of children how to make blood flavored lollipops!  What would that fall under?  Cuisine?  Culinary skills?"

            Dumbledore tilted his head, apparently trying to accept this incident as a viable teaching experience.  "Well, Fred and George Weasley are in that kind of business.  I suppose it's not _bad_.  Really, it's sort of amusing, what with the candy, and the entertainment factor that goes along with it.  I used to be fond of Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans, and the blood flavored ones were not so bad, not really."

            "I _love_ Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans," the viscount professed.  "But you have to watch out for the vomit flavored ones.  They look just like toffee."

            Dumbledore smiled feebly.  He wrote down on his paper, 'Mutual dislike of vomit-flavored jelly beans.'

            He said to the viscount, "Tell me some of your hobbies."

            "Well, I like riding.  I breed horses, you know."

            "How interesting.  What else do you do with your free time?"

            "I also practice the Dark Arts with my vampire coven.  Tuesday nights at eight," said the viscount.

            "Did you say you have a coven?"  Dumbledore asked, hoping he had heard wrong.

            "Oh, yes.  It's a lark.  But don't get the wrong impression about us; we are all very dedicated to the craft, and we take everything seriously.  If you'd like to join us, I could put in a good word for you with our leader," offered the viscount.

            "No, thank you.  That won't be necessary," sighed Dumbledore.  He looked the job applicant in the eye.  The applicant looked back.  There was a trace of red in his brown eyes that Dumbledore had not noticed before.  Strange.  Haunting, really.

            Dumbledore had a few more questions to ask before totally giving up hope.  "Why do you want to work here, Viscount Norman?"

            "Oh, I don't know.  Always like to try new things.  I've heard a lot of famous people have been Defense Against the Dark Arts Professors here at Hogwarts:  Gilderoy Lockhart, Bartemius Crouch Jr., that funny little man with the stutter who was possessed by Lord Voldemort...  And I thought, 'Well, I want to be famous, too.  Why don't I give it a shot?'"

            Dumbledore shrugged and gave him a half-hearted smile.

            Viscount Norman inquired, "Do we get overtime and paid vacations?"

            "Do you understand that this is probably the most demanding task you have ever faced in your life?"  asked Dumbledore.

            "What?  Teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts to a bunch of wizards?  Piece of cake," said the viscount.

            "These are not just wizards, Viscount Norman.  These are adolescents.  The most difficult kind.  Full of unpredictable mood swings, and--and epileptic seizures," Dumbledore warned him.

            "Well, it's a good thing I know the cure for epileptic seizures!"  said the viscount with a look of triumph.

            "I'm sure you do," said Dumbledore.  "But there is more.  Some of them have gone insane from the attacks on Hogwarts.  They walk around in circles and mumble to themselves at the mere mention of Lord Voldemort.  Some have even gone catatonic."

            "That's horrible!"  exclaimed the viscount.

            Dumbledore sadly shook his head, giving his acting chops good exercise at the same time.  "There's nothing any of us can do about catatonia," he said.  "I'm afraid this is the beginning of the end.  Hogwarts will eventually shut down.  No parents will want to send their children here.  They would rather send them to Durmstrang and Beauxbatons, where less exciting things happen and nobody is ever in mortal peril."

            The viscount did not look discouraged by this news.  He said to Dumbledore, "But we must help the students who remain here.  Mortal peril is all the more reason for us to work harder!"

            "You don't understand!  We're closing down next year.  There will be no more Hogwarts, no more Defense Against the Dark Arts, and no more snogging in the Astronomy Tower!"  cried Dumbledore.

            "Oh," said the vampire viscount.  "Well, perhaps I could apply at Durmstrang?"

            "That might be a good idea," said Dumbledore.

            "Is Igor Karkaroff still in charge of Durmstrang?"

            "No," said Dumbledore sharply.  "He disappeared half a year ago."

            "Oh, right.  Of course," said the viscount.  "Who's running it now?"

            "I believe their new Headmaster is Mr. R--.  He used to be their Potions Teacher."

            "Ah."  The viscount nodded.  He stood up and reached out his hand, which Dumbledore shook after an awkward hesitation.  "Thank you very much.  It's been a pleasure."

            "Mm-hm," Dumbledore murmured, forcing a smile.

            The viscount turned back into a bat and flew out the window.

            'So that's how he got in here,' thought Dumbledore, stroking his bearded chin.  'It must be easier getting around that way.  I should have become an Animagus.  But then, I probably would've gotten some stupid animal like a porcupine.'

…………………to be continued


	16. The Seduction of Harry Potter

**Chapter 16**

For all outward appearances, the Gryffindor dormitories and common room were abandoned for the afternoon. At least, that is what the petite intruder thought when she slipped quietly onto the premises.

Ginny Weasley shut the door and advanced toward the mess in the common room. She started rifling through odd bits of clutter scattered over the furniture, obviously looking for something.

Suddenly, there was a noise from the boys' dormitory overhead. Ginny jumped.

Harry was heading briskly down the stairs, but paused mid-step at the sight of Ginny. Like her, he had believed himself to be alone in the place.

"Hullo, Ginny," he said, weakly.

"Hello, Harry," said Ginny. "How's it going?"

"Good," the boy half-whispered. "An' you?"

"Fine," said Ginny, and she stared at him a bit longer than she intended to.

Quite to his surprise, Harry found that he enjoyed the way she was looking at him. And then he realized that he had always enjoyed it when she gazed at him, or smiled at him, or paid attention to him. He had always looked forward to seeing Ginny. She lit up like a firefly around him.

Harry hopped off of the bottom step and crossed the gap that lay between them. "You look different," he said, studying her face in bewilderment. "Did you get a haircut?"

"No," said Ginny, shaking her head.

"Oh, that's weird. You look different," he said again, as if he couldn't get over it.

Ginny looked up hopefully at him, and Harry's telltale eyes flickered over her visage—sending her visions of his fire. With that one look, Harry had betrayed his innermost feelings, but he found that her face held the exact same expression as his own. They were linked in that one moment of time, reading each other's minds. They knew that they were both thinking about the same thing.

Before they knew it, they were in a frenzied embrace—kissing each other as if their mouths depended on it for survival. And for the next few minutes, all Harry knew was the floor beneath his feet and his fingers running through Ginny's thick red hair and the passionate touch of her lips upon his face.

Ginny pushed him onto the sofa and leapt on his lap, straddling his hips with her pretty little legs. He gave a start as he felt Ginny's wet tongue delving into the crannies of his ear. Dear God, he hadn't known what he was missing all this time!

Of course, there was no turning back at this point. Harry simply had to allow Ginny to have her way with him now. She tore off his glasses and smiled merrily as he slid his hands around her waist, giggling when he called her "you little vixen," "you little minx," and an assortment of other endearments. And just as Ginny had expected, Harry was a very good kisser. Ah…those shy, sensitive types. So innocent, so corruptible.

The make-out session was going along swimmingly—until Harry asked a question, that is.

"So, what were you doing with Hermione and Malfoy in the prefects' bathroom?" he asked.

"Use your imagination," said Ginny. She tried to kiss his lips again, but he turned away.

"No. I really want to know, Ginny," he insisted.

"No, you don't."

"Um, yes I do."

Ginny sighed. "We were making out."

"What?" Harry was inching away from her. "You kissed Malfoy?"

"Mm-hm," Ginny nodded cheerfully.

"I'm kissing the same lips that kissed Draco Malfoy?" Harry exclaimed.

"Oh, don't be like this, Harry. That was two whole _days_ ago," said Ginny.

"Two whole—my God, Ginny, that was only two days ago! Are you telling me that—that your first kiss was from Draco Malfoy? You poor thing!"

Ginny scoffed. "Of course not! You think Malfoy is the first boy I've ever kissed? What do you think Neville and I were doing after the Yule Ball?"

"Oh, dear God," Harry muttered and averted his eyes from Ginny. First, his puritanical view of Professor Lupin had been contaminated, not to mention his idea of Professor McGonagall, and now Ginny was transforming from an innocent schoolgirl into…someone with more experience than himself.

"With Neville? I can't believe it!" he declared.

"Why? What's the matter with Neville?" Ginny exclaimed.

"He's—he's so _Neville_," Harry sputtered.

Ginny was becoming infuriated. "Well, I happen to like Neville very much. Maybe I should keep seeing him. After all, he is a very good kisser."

"I don't need to hear this…"

"After all the times we've made out, he really has improved. He's better than Malfoy, actually," Ginny went on.

"I'm as cool as a cucumber…"

Ginny suddenly leapt off of Harry. "You know," she said, "if you have a problem with Neville, then I don't think I want to kiss you anymore."

"But, Ginny!" Harry exclaimed.

"No, I've had enough," Ginny stated matter-of-factly. "You know what? I've wanted you for three years—almost four—and you never once asked me out. Well, I got tired of waiting. Now I'm bored with you."

She flounced away to the door. Harry yelled, "Ginny, come back!"

She smiled and called over her shoulder, "Have a good afternoon, Harry." Then she vanished through the portrait hole.

Harry slumped down on the couch. His hair was sticking up at odder angles than usual, and his face was pink and naked without his glasses. He shook his head muttering, "What a tease."

The entrance to the Hufflepuffs' common room was lined with bright, red poinsettias and trailing vines of mistletoe. A mural covered the walls with a vibrant scene from a street in Havana. Draco and Hermione felt an instant warmth spring into their step as they proceeded to the door. Everything here reminded them of Christmas in the Caribbean.

Suddenly there was a pang of longing in Draco's heart as he gazed upon the holiday decorations. He blinked, trying to recognize the ache inside his soul—a patch of emptiness that had never been filled. He had never been taught how, and there had never been any need to do so. But just now, seeing Hermione turn around and toss him a warm and friendly smile, Draco thought it was quite possible he could begin filling that void right now.

Hermione raised a fist to the door and paused. "I do hope we're not too late," she murmured, "or else they're bound to be talking about us." What a sigh, she finally brought herself to rap upon the door. Behind her, Draco simply shrugged, with a cocky grin on his face.

Elizabeth soon came to greet them. She was wearing a light blue painter's smock, and her curly dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail. She thrust a paintbrush and apron into each of their hands and stepped aside to let them in.

Draco gave her a curious look. "This isn't part of your plan to make us men wear aprons, is it, Hermione?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," said Hermione, eyes wide with innocent wonder.

Elizabeth put in, "I simply couldn't resist—I mean, bear—to see Our Majesty's clothing get soiled."

"There, you see," Hermione told him. "Now take the apron."

Draco peered at the contents of his other hand suspiciously. "Are these _Muggle_ paintbrushes?" he inquired.

Elizabeth pretended not to hear this and made a rapid retreat to Elaine's table.

Hermione surveyed the large room for her friends from Gryffindor, but from that group she saw only Ron. "Where are Harry and Ginny?" she asked.

"Who knows," said Draco with a shrug. "Famous Harry Potter, missing in action. Really doesn't surprise me—"

"Oh, here he comes," exclaimed Hermione. "And Ginny, too."

Draco turned his head toward the door, his initial disappointment at hearing Harry's name vanquished by the sight of the willowy redhead Ginny.

"Please, Ginny, please!" they heard Harry pleading. "I'm sorry I said those things. I shouldn't have said them; I don't know what got into me. Ginny!"

Harry made a grab for Ginny's arm, but she quickly ducked out of the way. "Get yer hands offa me!" Ginny shrieked, and her two braids whipped around in the air as she twirled about to face him.

Harry was glaring at her, fixated. "Just give me a chance. I won't let you down!"

"You've already let me down, Harry," stated Ginny.

Harry rushed toward her again, and she slapped him hard across the cheek.

Hermione looked on, appalled at his behavior. Elizabeth, meanwhile, was trying to approach them to break up the escalating quarrel, but as she was too timid to get caught in the crossfire, she stepped aside and shuffled her feet fretfully while her hands crept up to her half-open mouth. "Harry!" she cried. "Stop it this instant!"

"That's right!" yelled Ron. He jumped to his feet and pounded the table with his fist. "Stop badgering my sister! What's going on? What's the matter with you!"

Harry was gently stroking his cheek, which was bright red from Ginny's palm. He wouldn't admit that it hurt, but his eyes were filled with shock as he stared at Ginny. He had never known her to hurt anybody.

Draco rolled his eyes at this juvenile display and looked at Hermione as if to say, 'Aren't you glad we're too mature to act like that?'

Hermione didn't understand what Draco's smug expression was supposed to signify; she just thought he approved of Harry's thrashing at the hands of a girl. "I should talk to him," Hermione said quietly.

"What for?" asked Draco.

Before Hermione could reach him, though, Harry turned around and fled the room. He slammed the door behind him, and Hermione did not pursue him. Ginny returned to the group, with Elaine and Elizabeth inquiring after her well-being. Ron, too, asked Ginny how she was feeling, and she answered them all with a positive account. "I'm feeling much better, thank you, now that _he's_ gone."

Draco gently took hold of Hermione's arm. "Why don't we get back to work?"

Hermione glanced at him. "Yes, I suppose we should."

...to be continued


End file.
